Through Emerald Eyes: Hogwarts reads Harry Potter
by The Penitent Heretic
Summary: Voldemort was slain, but that did not save the Wizarding World. Due to early manipulations, the Boy Who Lived never stood a chance at defeating the next coming of evil. Fortunately, a mysterious phoenix has traveled back to Harry Potter's fifth year and summoned friends and enemies alike to Hogwarts for a reading that can alter the future of the world. Eventual Harem and strong AU!
1. Prologue I: A Change in the Winds

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any material related. All of it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Bros. and any associated publishing companies. Nothing in this story is legally mine, except my imagination and my OC's. It's the big guy's pond, figuratively, and I'm just swimming in it while the rich couple is away.**_

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**Author's Note:** We're back and hopefully here to stay. I've gotten numerous private messages urging me to repost my original story "Through Emerald Eyes: Hogwarts reads Harry Potter". For those that don't know, my story (along with numerous' others) was promptly deleted without due warning back in 2012 during what we refer to as the mass purge. "Let's reads", mature content, and a myriad of even less offensive stories were done away with thanks in large part to a committee of a dozen or so very spiteful people, who took it upon themselves to enforce site laws with little regard for people's hard work, all with the support of a rather unreasonable disclaimer.

Thankfully the site has changed a bit since then. Less stories are getting deleted, and I've even found a few "Let's read's" lying around, so it got me thinking. After two years of deliberation and working on actual original stories to publish, one day I just decided to blow the dust off of this bad boy and see if there was anything salvageable. Much to my surprise, there was.

So it's back! In a rough and rebooted formed, but back nonetheless. A few disclaimers before we get into it. This is a '_Characters read Harry Potter_' story. Yes, run for the hills. However, much like my last version of this story, it contains STRONG AU ELEMENTS. Throughout the canon story, I will insert original scenes and or change certain events in the books in order to best fit the tone and continuity I'm going for outside of the reading. So no, it's not just copy and pasting Rowling's work and inserting witty dialogue here and there. One look at this pilot chapter will show you that much. I definitely plan to alter the canon timeline substantially, so by the time the reading ever gets to the fifth book, parts of it should be completely original. So if that's not your thing, this is your queue to leave (please don't go…). Furthermore, I hope this keeps this story from being promptly deleted without so much as a notification, not unlike last time. Ahem. If there's a serious problem, please private message me and let me at least defend the credentials of this fic. Thank you.

Secondly, this will be a Harry/harem fic. I can already see a large majority of you signing out of this story, heading for the exit signs, etc. That's fine. I'm right there with you that polygamous Harry has been done far too often and not nearly tasteful enough to warrant reading anything with the words 'harem' or 'multi' in the synopsis. That being said, I really am aiming to make an enjoyable, amusing, and relatively balanced 'romantic' experience in this story. Failing that, I'll settle for not too unhinged fluff. Pairings are not the primary axis on which this story turns by any means, but they will play a very fun factor in it. Think of the better and less gaudy anime shows out there. Again, totally understandable if that's not your thing.

Lastly, I am clearly without a beta reader at the moment. Aha. Lord knows where my last ones ran off to after the purge took their works away as well ('Damn you, purge!). So if anyone has the good grace and ample time to edit my behemoth and grammatically annoying chapters, please feel free to message me.

That's about it for now. I sincerely hope those of you left enjoy the reading. It'll be sure to address some of the inconsistencies with the latter books. Remember, this starts off as a slight AU before developing into its own thing, so expect the unexpected… and please throw away fanon! If you're looking for more Veela bonding, ice-princess Daphne, or 'Love me for me' Tonks, this just isn't the place. Cheers!

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_Thrump…_

'So this is what an awakening feels like,' he wondered.

His mind cleared and he looked at his hands. They were grimy, a stream of crimson rolling between his fingers flowing from a large cut in his arm. His shirt had been blasted away for the most part. So had his assailant, evidenced by the blood plastered column next to him. He'd done it without a wand, instinctive. He'd never killed another person before.

_Thrump… Thrump… Thrump_.

Everything faded into the background. A loud pounding filled his ears, like an air filled 'whoosh'. Everything else was muted. _Quiet_. Save for his heart.

_Thrump… Thrump_.

He allowed it's guttural rhythm to fill his head. As it pumped, it sounded off like an ominous beast, flapping its dark wings with every ounce of blood it pushed through his veins. In that moment, that's exactly what he felt like - a beast; calculative, instinctive and unbridled. _Raw_. A part of him reveled in the state he was in. Shirt tattered, scorched arm, he ignored all of it in lieu of his new heightened sense of awareness. A state of being that allowed him to fully take in his surroundings with an acute eye and ear.

Dark red liquid flowed down dirtied stone, falling on a dark cloaked figure sporting a medallion - a snake in an emerald field. It was cracked, not unlike the spine of the corpse it lay upon. He moved past the crumpled form next to him, taking his mind off what he'd just done and how little he felt about it. Instead he listened to the soft pitter patter of water coming from beyond his vicinity.

It was raining. Dark clouds filled the ceiling as the enchantments in the Grew Hall served as a reflection of the world outside. The storm beyond the castle walls was fierce, winds beating against the magically reinforced windows of the institution. The storm inside though was no less a spectacle. He felt the crowded interior of the Great Hall aptly reflected the chaotic storm raging beyond the castle. Spell fire drowned out the sounds of the rain rapping on the roof. Screams of terror and moans of bitterness meshed with the clashes of thunder in the skies. The only real difference he could find between the two settings was the lighting. While the storm clouds outside were thick and invisible in the night sky, save for the brief flashes of lightning, the Great Hall was vibrant with color.

Spells and curses flew from wands - green, purple, and red in color - and the candles above the hall flickered in and out. He found the scene rather uncannily beautiful in its ferocity. It was a deadly lightshow filled with intent, a powder keg of emotion that had finally erupted. He'd never been much of a photographer or even an artist for that matter, but he felt that if he had a camera at the moment, he'd likely give Colin a run for his money on the best of days. All that was missing was the lightning, and who better to provide it than himself. It was only appropriate.

So it was with a crack like thunder that Harry Potter rejoined the fray.

Hex, curse, deflect, charm, and curse again. His now drawn wand moved like an extension of his being as he was a blur of motion, though he hardly noticed. For Harry, everything else was moving in slow motion. He'd been in life threatening situations before, but never had he seen time actually slow down for him. The encounters in which he'd had to fight for his life, and there were many, tended to be fast-paced and 'cutty', often times leaving him with a severe case of whiplash when the dust settled. To actually witness a surreal moment like this was a unique experience for the Boy-Who-Lived. He knew in reality that time wasn't actually moving slower, but rather his mind and his senses were working extra fast to take in the entirety of the situation within a span of a few seconds. Though his breathing was elevated, his heart rate was as steady as it always was in these scenarios, and he was able to notice anything and everything in the entirety of the Hall.

Papers littered the air above him, seemingly suspended in mid-motion, clouding half of the hall from the flickering candles above. The scorched and wayward parchment was all that remained of the last few books that they had left to read. Books that held the future of the wizarding world within their fine ink. That thought alone filled him with a sense of anger that could forge steel. He turned his sharp eyes on the closest of the perpetrators ilk he saw, which just so happened to be a group of seventh year Slytherins who were huddled behind tables and conjured barriers in a corner of the hall. They were firing at the majority of the rooms occupants, heedless of who they hit or with what curse.

The students were thankfully taking cover as well and returning spells of their own. The younger years were warned to stay down, many of them either growing hysterical or trying to hide their panic at the violent turn of events. Even more were in shock, faces blank and pale. The older students were doing their best, casting the strongest defense shields and conjuring the thickest barriers they could to stop the lethal slew of curses heading their way, while the third to fifth years used their limited arsenal of offensive magic to repel the attackers. Harry absentmindedly noticed that the majority of the students successfully taking out the attackers were DA members. He would have had to resist the urge to smirk were the circumstances less dire.

Making his way over to an ideal position to retaliate, Harry glanced over at the staff table where things were faring much better. The Dumbledore brothers were working efficiently to dispatch the remaining aurors who were actually covert Death Eaters, as well as several of the guests there. Among that group, unsurprisingly, were Lucius Malfoy and Dolores Umbridge. Harry gritted his teeth at the site of two of the people he hated most in this world, before a smile worked its way onto his face. It appeared his godfather and uncle figure were working in tandem against Malfoy Sr and Dawlish, and Harry was pleased to see that no taunts were being uttered by his usually witty godfather. He was glad to see that the reading had a positive effect on Sirius' less practical mannerisms. Not too far from them, another smile worked its way onto his face as he saw Molly Weasley and Dolores Umbridge locked in a duel… or rather, a yelling match with random spell work thrown in, but at least someone was putting the sorry excuse of a teacher in her place. He was equally pleased and surprised to see Narcissa Malfoy, the beautiful and aristocratic woman who was unfortunately the wife of a certain blonde bigot, helping her older sister Andromeda in tending to the few wounded staff members from the opening rounds of the battle. The initial salvo had caught a few staff and guests off guard, among them Irma Pince and Professor Trelawney. The rest of the staff were working on keeping the students safe, while the Weasley family joined the remaining order members in repelling the few remaining Death Eater combatants.

Harry unconsciously returned fire at one of the Slytherins that felt brave enough to try to get a shot in at him, and judging by the spell color it was an old-timey torture curse. Without batting an eye at the now disarmed – literally – and bound attacker, Harry turned his phoenix wand on the lone figure that didn't seem to be taking anyone's side at the moment, opting instead to stand in the corner of the hall and watch. Whoever they were – and Harry was almost certain that it was a women if the rather feminine curves were anything to go by - they seemed to have arrived with the Malfoy's at the beginning of the reading and had remained silent ever since. Add to the fact that the person wore a veil over their features, and it didn't give Harry much reason to trust them, Dumbledore's intentions be damned.

As he gripped his wand and made his way to the corner of the hall, dodging spell fire and returning it without breaking stride, he saw that the figure had spotted him and had leveled their own wand on his approaching form. It was gnarled and dark, like a long thorn from a large rose. Absentmindedly, he acknowledged that the interval between spells being cast in the hall was growing longer and that the majority of the screams and curses being uttered had dribbled down to a minimum. He correctly surmised that the little altercation between the two sides was coming to a close. By the time he'd reached the figure, the two had been staring each other down for what seemed like minutes. At least Harry _felt_ like he'd been staring them down, as he really had no way of knowing with the veil covering their face. Cautiously and slowly, so as not to startle them, he raised his wand and asked a simple question with a voice that brokered no half-truths.

"Who are you?"

The figure seemed to stare stonily back at him for a few seconds, and just when Harry was about to forcefully repeat the question, they slowly pulled their hand up and grabbed the edge of the veil. As the figure seemed to hesitate, Harry had a guess as to what they were currently thinking. If whoever this was went through such lengths to hide their identity, they likely weren't anyone that was welcome in these halls. Hoping to allay their fear, Harry said, "Unless you're Tom himself, something I seriously doubt, I won't attack you without first receiving provocation from yourself. It's as fair a deal as you'll get given the circumstances. Now… give us your name."

His tone was somewhat frigid but not necessarily hostile. In spite of this, Harry wasn't sure they believed him. Hell, he wasn't sure of his own words. For all he knew the person under that veil was an absolute monster, the likes of Dolohov. The more animalistic side of him was even hoping they'd pull a wand on him. His adrenaline was coursing through his system like battery acid and he had nothing to satiate his rising bloodlust. His firm self control won out though, as he steadied his hand and held his breath. Unknown to him, he'd drawn an audience.

The figure hesitated for a while longer before it gave a tight nod back, and went to unwind the magical veil hiding their features. As the material dropped away to reveal some of the most stunning eyes Harry had ever seen, he fell quiet in shock at the person standing before him. The woman stared stonily back at him, though a strong sense of uncertainty, aggression, and even fear seemed to course through her very eyes. Just as Harry opened his mouth to speak, a voice behind him yelled in utter shock and anger.

"YOU!"

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**(One "Day" Earlier)**

Headmasters Office, Hogwarts - 10:06pm – Thursday, February 19th, 1996

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was in unfamiliar territory. As both the long-standing Headmaster of Hogwarts as well as the former Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, not to mention hailed as one of the greatest wizards of all time, the man had grown quite accustomed to being in charge of situations. From knowing most if not all of what needed to be known, to giving out orders and having others follow them to the tee. He was, however, not accustomed to _receiving_ orders and if today's experience was anything to go by, he'd likely never be a fan.

Yet here he was, sitting in his office and staring at a piece of parchment that he had written and duplicated many times. It was a note requesting the presence of some odd two dozen individuals, all of whom were related to the life of a rather unique young man. The request was for them to come to Hogwarts on the morning of the upcoming Saturday for what was to be a very special occasion; an event wherein things concerning the local political climate, the school, and - most importantly – the war, would be discussed. The letter also warned them to come prepared to spend the entire day. It seemed a bit ambiguous to say the least, he knew this. But what else could he say in the situation? It would be hard enough getting all of them there in the first place, let alone getting them to understand and believe the truth of the matter. To tell them the real reason why they were coming would be out of the question. And he _needed_ them to come. So he stuck to what he did best and gave half or partial truths, without actually lying, in order to get people to do what he wanted. They'd heed his call, regardless of their station and character. After all, the summons came from '_the_ Albus Dumbledore'.

The old wizard sighed to himself, knowing the upcoming weekend would be a trying one. At this point he just wanted it all to end. For the war to be finished, for peace to reign as long as it was allowed to in a world such as this. And most of all, he wished he could right the wrongs done to so many people for the "greater good", not least among them the boy who was the real reason for the upcoming hosting. He wondered briefly how it came to this event, and whether or not he had it in him to follow through with what was planned. He didn't doubt that he was doing the right thing in this case, though to be fair he'd felt that way about other past decisions that didn't end so well and he wondered now if he'd ever really done "the right thing" before. It was a silly doubt, but one that lingered. Thinking back to how he'd first come to this decision, Albus Dumbledore looked over to his desk where a stack of seven books lay, and recalled how they first came into his possession.

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**Headmasters Office, Hogwarts - 9:58pm – Thursday, February 19th, 1996**

Dumbledore had been sitting at his desk, doing the two things he found himself doing far too often lately - sucking on a lemon drop and contemplating the enigma that was Harry Potter. The lemon drops were simply bad for his health in such large quantities, as most sweet things are. It was a problem easily dealt with. Harry Potter on the other hand was a less cut and dry matter altogether.

Contrary to popular belief, the boy was not as easy to categorize and explain away as he appeared. Dumbledore felt he was an extremely perceptive individual when it 'mattered most', and he steadily saw through the thin and thick emotional layers of the Boy-Who-Lived. He had a feeling that somewhere behind the boy's selfless and brave exterior, a slew of conflicting emotions raged for dominance in his troubled mind. Beneath those emotions lied a regressed genius, one that was slowly broken down over time by the tragic events of his life, until they were a mere memory hidden in the back of his sub-consciousness, only unleashed when needed most. What childhood the boy might have had in order to warrant such a complex mental shield, the man wasn't sure and he didn't dare practice legillimincy on the child. Not in his current mental state, of all things, nor out of respect for the boy. Dumbledore was many things, but he was not a rapist of minds.

It pained the old man to see the boy whom he'd reluctantly come to see as a grandson so troubled and alone, but in his heart he knew he could do little more for him if his plans were to stay on track. This was all part of the plan he'd made many years ago whose inception was on a cold November morning, when Harry had taken his first step into his destiny; a plan that had been tweaked, added to, and perfected over the years to acclimate to new developments… such as horcruxes. It was a plan that was fairly simple and rather ideal when one looked at the big picture, and though it never felt truly right, Dumbledore never relented, viewing it as a necessity for "the greater good".

He hid the boy away from the magical world, so he would not be surrounded by the temptations that would befall such an iconic individual. As a symbol of victory and hope to the magical world, the boy would undoubtedly be exposed to the risks of fame and would end up prideful, arrogant, haughty. Perhaps even power hungry. For such a powerful wizard like Harry was bound to be (if the size of his early magical core was any indication), that would not be a good thing. Instead, Harry would need to be placed in a humble environment with a normal sized family in order to properly learn the principles of being a good man before re-entering the wizarding world. For Dumbledore, who already knew that Harry was destined for greater things, there was hardly even a choice. Harry would grow up as a muggle, in the only safe environment available for him - the Dursley's.

He knew that the muggle family would likely have a difficult time with the boy, and even more so vice versa, but he had faith that the boy would only be the better for it in the end. Or so he had hoped. Now that he thought about it, and from what information various staff and Order members had been able to give him, the boy had quite a few issues that were likely effects of his childhood, not the least of which were his instinct to blame himself for things beyond his control, his fierce independent streak, and his lack of trust in authority figures. He'd have to work on breaking the boy of the latter two of those traits. Perhaps find him a girlfriend; someone to guide him towards authority and quench his more instinctual reactions. Someone who could provide comfort to a young man who needed as much love as he could get, but whom? Perhaps he could convince the boy to like Molly's child, Ginevra. While rather hot-headed and emotional, he was sure that with a little coaxing of the young man in question, she'd do nicely…

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp screech and a startling increase of temperature in the room. He looked to the side of his office where his phoenix familiar sat, only to see Fawkes burning brightly; his entire body completely aflame. The old man was both confused and awed at the display before him, all thoughts about Harry Potter gone from his mind. It was far too early for Fawkes to have a burning day, and never before had it affected the room in such a way, nor had his familiar lit up so enchantingly. To say the Headmaster was intrigued was an understatement.

'_Curious_,' he thought.

Fawkes' song still continued, growing higher in decibels until all sound in the room was hardly audible at all. A strange quiet filled the room as the glow increased, almost as though the Headmasters office had become a vacuum. Utter silence. Then a powerful burst of magic pulsed outward from the blazing avian. Instantly, the sound returned, and with it all of the frail objects in the room were shattered and Dumbledore himself was found lying on the floor, blown back from the shockwave. He was bleeding from his ears and disoriented from both the incredible high pitch and the surprising spike of magical energy. Groaning and trying to wipe the blood away, Dumbledore unsteadily found his way to his knees before finally looking up at the destruction.

His room was in complete disarray. Papers were scattered everywhere, while the articles of parchment closest to Fawkes were burned, leaving their ink-stained scent to linger in the air. All of the glass objects in the room were either shattered or cracked. The unique contraptions and frail gizmos he'd come to collect over the years were nowhere to be found in the debris, most likely obliterated. Dumbledore himself found what remained of a cracked mirror and widened his eyes at his current state. His pair of once impressive velvet robes was now sullied by streaks of green ink that had flown from the ink containers that were on his desk. His once white and ordered hair was now dirtied and chaotic, with his prized beard singed and mottled black.

Gathering himself from the shock of the event, as well as absentmindedly casting a healing and numbing spell on his ears, the wise yet misguided wizard of legend turned to the area where his familiar had once perched. The cage was no longer there, seemingly incinerated to a state of non-existence. Dumbledore took a moment to thank Merlin for not allowing the heat to destroy the rest of his office, as normal physics would demand. His familiar was nowhere to be seen though and he had absolutely no idea what just happened. This troubled the man who prided himself on knowing all there was to know about phoenixes. He was, after all, the first wizard in a couple hundred years to have one as a familiar.

Sighing to himself, Dumbledore was about to cast an advanced series of charms that would clean, repair, and reorder all of the objects in the room to the state they were in before the incident. However, he stopped mid-cast when he saw a new light appear over his desk, which was quickly followed by another magical blast. Managing to stay on his feet this time, Dumbledore shielded his eyes with his arm until the light had subsided. Cautiously lowering his arm and opening his eyes, Dumbledore was met by a view that he would remember for the remainder of his already lengthy life.

Sitting on his desk was Fawkes, purer and more vibrant than he'd ever seen him, bowing to a creature the likes of which Albus had never thought he'd see. It was undoubtedly a royal phoenix. It had the same build and design as the standard phoenix. However, the strange thing about it was... well, everything when compared to its inferior immortal cousins. It was at least twice as big as Fawkes, with wide purple feathers covering its body, as opposed to the standard reddish-orange hue. The trim around its spine, eyes, and tail were black, with dark blue marring its wing tips and head. It held itself in a manner that spoke volumes. It was a being of sheer majesty and power, and the magical presence rolling off of it almost choked the aged wizard, which may or may not have been its intention as the bird seemed to smirk before withdrawing its power from the airwaves.

Struggling to get his amazement and terror under control, the old man took a deep breath before speaking. "May I help you?"

As soon as the words left his lips, the aged wizard felt an invisible force ghost against his Occlumency shields. When it struck, it was neither soft and slow like his own legillimincy probes, nor sharp and sensitive like most legilimens are. Instead it was as though it merely phased through Dumbledore's formidable shields, something that momentarily scared the considerably powerful yet now helpless wizard. Once past his defenses, the phoenix started flashing images into his mind. At first they were blurry and too quick to latch onto, but eventually they sharpened until they were utterly vivid, as though he were living them himself. As they began to form, his resistance gave way to curiosity.

'Memories', the aged wizard thought. 'But whose are they?'

Time seemed to slow down for the aged wizard as he saw the image of a little boy, broken and alone in a small dark room. He recognized the child of no more than 8 as a young Harry Potter. He was currently crying and asking for a second chance. The old man tried to tear his eyes away from the personal memory. He now knew whose memories these were, but they brought him no answers. Only more questions.

Before he could focus too much on his thoughts, a force strengthened around his mental vision and turned him once again to the scene, as though forcing him to watch his mistakes stare him in the face with those haunting emerald eyes; so bright and so hopeful despite his situation, though eventually the headmaster could see that there was a dullness there that was well hidden underneath the surface. This went on for hours; brief flashes and quick cuts of memory of one Harry Potter's life throughout the years, both before and during his time at Hogwarts.

The visions eventually turned to an older Harry, one whose eyes were considerably duller. He watched as blurry figures fell through veils, over astronomy towers, in a massive battle and he always heard the muffled scream of the last remaining Potter follow. While the old man could not understand what he was seeing, he could feel the emotion from the memories, which was unusual for memories. It showed that they were extremely emotional times in the boys life, and judging by his unfamiliarity with them, they likely hadn't happened yet. This only added to the old man's confusion, which was now accompanied by a huge amount of sadness and guilt that he had no explanation for. Who were these people dying? Why was Harry the only one clearly visible?

He was in the middle of viewing a particularly emotional memory, wherein a person that - Dumbledore could only assume - was a female close to the boy was lying dead on the floor, when the old man felt a presence at his side. Turning to the left he saw the royal phoenix beside him, looking at the scene with what could only be described as utter remorse for the person suffering. Dumbledore stared at the immortal avian for a second, even as his eyes watered.

"Why?"

The avian god didn't seem to hear him as it continued staring at the scene. Dumbledore grew frustrated with it and raised his voice and asked again. "Why? Why have you brought me here? Why are you showing me these things!?" He was obviously hurting from the bleed over of the emotions memory-Harry was feeling with each loss. It was getting to the man who felt like he had all the answers that he needed to have. After a few minutes more of silence where the scene changed once more to a graveyard, the bird finally turned and regarded the wizard before him.

"Albus Dumbledore," it spoke in a voice that was neither male nor female. It was a voice that transcended genders and races, but was laced with a soft spoken power and an undercurrent of emotion that Dumbledore couldn't place. To say that the headmaster was startled was an understatement but he wisely kept his mouth shut, knowing the phoenix wasn't done.

"You have been responsible for many things in your life; some good, some bad. However, you particularly influenced and affected the life of one individual. Care to take a guess?"

The headmaster seemed to think for a moment. Though he knew the likely answer right away, it just didn't make any sense. He answered regardless of his doubts, "Harry Potter."

The bird, however, never confirmed nor denied his response. Instead it continued in answering Dumbledore's earlier question. "What you see are the memories of a very important boy – a boy whose fate was written before he was ever conceived. Robbed of a real chance, like so many unfortunately are, but none so important to your race as him. Things such as happiness, a childhood, love, were denied him by individuals who sought to control his life, among them, yourself." Dumbledore didn't bother denying the accusation and instead opted to listen, albeit in a more subdued manner than before.

"You've manipulated many things and affected many outcomes in your life. Some of those events and altered lives worked out for the best, but this case - _his_ case - is not one of them." The two continued to stare at the memory as it showed a now twenty-something Harry Potter fighting a dozen dark wizards single handedly, without pause for breath as he fluidly incapacitated the lot of them in a manner of a few seconds. Dumbledore himself was impressed by the display, and he wondered if it was something even he could have achieved back in the day. A smile worked its way onto the old man's face, glad to see the boy he'd come to see as a grandson was coping with his losses and advancing in his abilities. However, when he saw the lack of accomplishment in memory-Harry's eyes, his smile disappeared, and it turned into a frown when he saw memory-Harry walk away emotionless. Only then did he take in the fact that the wizards weren't getting up. They were dead, but no deader than the look in his student's eyes.

"The future is coming faster than you can imagine, Dumbledore. The chosen one's time is coming, and if your plans were to succeed, he would not be ready when that time came." Eyes widening, Dumbledore looked to say something, but the phoenix continued. "We aren't talking about Voldemort or the current wizarding war on the horizon. That is taken care of, at the cost of so many innocent lives, as well as the future of the wizarding world." The grand phoenix turned to stare directly into the shocked old man's eyes. "I've been sent back. As a grand phoenix I have special abilities, one of which is to traverse between times at the steep price of no longer being able to return to my master…"

The phoenix paused and let that price seep into Dumbledore's head. To lose his bond with Fawkes would be a horrible thing indeed. "I am here to offer you an opportunity to change the future for the better. A chance of saving those you clam to care about. A chance to regain the humanity you seem to have lost in your pursuit of the 'greater good.'"

The words of the phoenix struck a deep cord within the wise old wizard. Could he truly take the chance of changing the future for the better? What would it cost and what would the outcomes be? He knew now that if things stayed as they were that he would at least see the end of Voldemort, the royal phoenix before him confirmed it, but what of the price? Not for the first time in his life, Dumbledore felt helpless and burdened by decisions too big for any one man. He was mortal at the end of the day.

It was then he saw the memory of a Harry in his forties, face somewhat grizzled and unshaven with white peppered in his hair, leading a massive charge of wizards and magical creatures against an indefinable force. Wave upon wave, they were brushed aside and waylaid. They were losing, and even memory-Harry knew it. Part of him even looked relieved beneath the emotions of hatred and loss he displayed.

In that moment, Dumbledore made up his mind. There was more out there than just Voldemort to deal with, apparently, and if there was even the slightest of chances that he could spare the few he still authentically cared for from going through hell to achieve the greater good, then so be it. It was one of his proudest moments in the last few years, coming to that decision. But how would he change the future?

The phoenix seemed to sense his unasked question, as they were effectively pulled out of the memory and exited the mindscape. Once back in his office, Dumbledore shook his head to loosen the cobwebs that had formed and to clear the wave of emotions he had been riding since entering the mindscape. After a brief pause, the grand phoenix looked at him and spoke once more in his head.

"In order to change the future, you must first change those that will bring it about. And for that to happen, you must first start with the person who has the most effect on them, knowingly or not."

Without missing a beat, Dumbledore answered the unasked question. "Harry…"

The phoenix nodded. In a crack of light, a series of books were laid out on the oak table beside the aged headmaster. There were seven books in total. The first spine read "Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone", while the second was titled "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" and so on. Raising an eyebrow at the books, Dumbledore turned to the purple avian looking for an explanation.

"These books chronicle the life and thoughts of one Harry Potter from his entrance into the wizarding world to his graduating year. His thoughts, his actions; everything of importance has been documented in these books with nothing edited or left out. You will read these books with the rest of the student body and staff. I have left a list of people for you to contact as well, and they will also need to come to this reading. It will be hard for him at frst, but he'll see the need for this eventually. And you must prove to them that this is the truth at any cost. Understood?"

Albus was at first stunned by this reveal, but he then picked up on the hidden meaning the phoenix was trying to convey. Nodding his head shakily, he responded. "I will do what you ask."

The avian nodded it's head at the man. "I will return when the meeting is to take place. Until then…" The phoenix turned to Fawkes who had been quiet the entire time and had remained in its bowed position. The grand phoenix nodded at the headmaster's companion in thanks and respect before it disappeared in a flash of indigo fire, leaving behind a very shocked and emotionally drained headmaster and an excited familiar.

"Well, old friend," the recovered wizard spoke into the silence as he picked up the list of people he'd have to invite and whistled appreciatively, "…it looks like we've got our work cut out for us."

Looking around the chaotic mess that had once been his office, he let out a soft chuckle. "A lot of work indeed." 

* * *

**Gryffindor Fifth Year Boys Dormitory, Hogwarts - 12:37am – Friday, February 20th, 1996**

While Dumbledore set out to do the mysterious phoenixes bidding, Harry Potter was having trouble sleeping. This wasn't an unusual occurrence this year, as he'd been avoiding his sleep as much as possible lately, fearing that he may receive another vision. While the previous vision had saved the life of Arthur Weasley, someone he respected and admired as both the father of his friends and a good man, Harry couldn't help the feeling of revulsion he had during such visions. Seeing events unfold and tragedy befall people as though he were the cause, despite not having any control over what occurred in them… it made him feel tainted, as though he were the one responsible. It made him feel sick ways he couldn't confess to anyone.

With such thoughts on his mind, it wasn't much of a wonder that the usually alert boy missed the silent flash of indigo fire in the corner of the room. The rest of the dorms occupants were already asleep, so the newcomer's arrival went unnoticed by all.

At the same moment, Harry got a feeling that he'd never learned to like. It was a feeling he got when something in his life was about to change. He'd had the same feeling before his eleventh birthday, when he discovered he was a wizard, and the same feeling the night he'd discovered Sirius was his godfather. It wasn't necessarily a feeling of danger, but rather the fear of the unknown; of a seemingly positive development that would soon turn into a questionable one at best. Being a wizard was an escape for him and the best thing that had ever happened in his life, but at the same time it introduced him to a life filled with immense danger, even more loathing than he was used to at the Dursley's, and previously unbelievable loss. His godfather was a prime example. Finding out that Sirius was his godfather and had been innocent was a high point in his life, but that quickly turned to regret when Sirius had to go into hiding after having already spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he hadn't committed. Or winning the TriWizard Tournament with Cedric quickly evolved into mourning the death of a friend and the loss of his innocence with the reincarnation of his parents' murderer. Changes in general tended to be a bad thing for Harry Potter, and so he silently cursed the feeling and prayed that nothing came of it. The feeling of uncertainty was enough to drive an already sane person mad, and at the moment some would say he already wasn't playing with a full deck.

Fortunately, before his thoughts could turn to more negative matters, the phoenix hidden in the room began singing a soft yet hardly audible song of soothing. While Harry failed to pinpoint where the melody was coming from, the effect was immediate all the same. His eyelids drooped, he breathed out a sigh of relief, and before he knew it he had entered Morpheus' embrace. It would be the first pleasant night's sleep he'd had in nearly a year.

If the phoenix could smile, it would have at the sight of his friend finding momentary peace. Instead it settled for a soft chirp of happiness at its success before a small parcel appeared beneath its talons. Gliding to the nightstand by the green-eyed wizard, it set the package down and nuzzled the sleeping form of Harry contently before flying outside of the window and disappearing in a silent flash of indigo to places unknown.

* * *

Across magical Britain, and over the course of several hours in the late evening and early morning, some odd two dozen individuals were contacted and notified about their presence being required at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the hour of the requests and the violent verbal exchanges that tended to take place after a someone had been awoken from their sleep, the sense of urgency given off by the caller - one Albus Dumbledore - did not go missed by most. Soon enough plans were made and instructions given out (by pompous Minister, to Head of the DMLE, to Dark Lord alike), as their curiosity was piqued. What did tomorrow have in store for them, and who else would be attending?

A young female auror with ever-changing hair and a beautiful heart shaped face was in the process of getting out of her clothes. She had just finished a double shift as an auror patrol before taking on another night's worth of guard duty at the Department of Ministries, and had only just returned home to call it a night. Despite the lateness of the hour, she felt like she could use a shower before cuddling into her pillows for a well earned sleep. Unfortunately, as soon as she entered her flat she had gotten a call from her immediate supervisor, Kingsley Shacklebolt, notifying her that they'd been given a mission to escort the Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, to a meeting that's to take place at Hogwarts the following day. This came right before her other boss, Albus Dumbledore, head of the Order of the Phoenix, floo-called her to notify her that her presence was requested at Hogwarts tomorrow. It seemed she was destined to visit her alma mater the next morning, regardless of her disposition on the matter, though her interest was piqued.

'_Aw, damn it. That means I won't get to sleep in_,' she thought as a pout made its way to her face.

Still, it wasn't everyday that she was given an escort mission, and she could use this as an opportunity to possibly see some of the staff and visit the brats that went to school there, chief among them a green-eyed wizard that she just loved to tease. Allowing herself a small smile in spite of the circumstances, she stepped into the shower and mentally prepared for what she felt would be an interesting day. In typical Tonks fashion however, she slipped on nothing and nearly ended up going headfirst into her shower wall. Thankfully, she managed to catch herself at the last second. Pushing away with the toned arms that caught her fall, she smiled to herself at the fact that she hadn't actually hit the wall this time, smirking victoriously at the dented tiles in front of her that were physical evidence of where she usually collided with her forehead.

Yupp, tomorrow was going to be a good day indeed.

It was a clear but chilly night in Ottery St. Catchpole. A young, blonde haired woman stood in silence just outside of the Burrow, staring at the stars and contemplating her future. She had recently begun seeing a man that was a co-worker a few months ago. While she found the man charming, kind, and fairly resistant to her allure, and everything she felt she needed and wanted, she was still a young woman and thus was uncertain of the next step she felt was soon coming up in their relationship.

The entire thing had come as a surprise to her and before she knew it she was being introduced to her redheaded boyfriend's parents, who were another matter entirely to the young veela. It was only a matter of time before things got quite serious, if they weren't already, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that Whirlwind flings were one thing; whirlwind romances that were pressured to become a marriage were another.

She was so deeply engrossed in her thoughts that she failed to notice the person walking up behind her until a pair of arms wrapped around her cardigan covered torso and pulled her closely in to a warm chest. Leaning her head back to look at the familiar face, she found a small smile working its way onto her face.

The freckled face of Bill Weasley stared worriedly back at her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking about some stuff," she replied with hardly a sign of an accent. She had been learning how to better pronounce English words and control the influence of her native tongue by Bill and their co-workers.

Bill smiled back at her and tightened his hold of her as he rested his head on her shorter shoulders. After a short pause, he asked her again what was wrong, and she had to withhold a mix between a grimace and smirk. While she loved that she was looked after with Bill, sometimes she just wanted her own space and to not be questioned. To be treated less fragile, with less suspicion. She was a Triwizard Tournament Champion, a skilled witch in her own right, and doting didn't do it for her like it did others.

Some would consider it immaturity, being so affected by her boyfriends worry over her, but she'd always struggled with feelings of need and intimacy. She was a complex woman, she knew, and perhaps she was just being moody over her fear of commitment. She couldn't quite place it, really, but to even get it sorted out she needed space that Bill just wasn't giving her. This, she figured, stemmed from the same insecurity that occurs in most men she dated. Not that Bill wasn't a cut above the others in her past, but they all eventually felt insecure with her. They started off like they were lucky to have her, which eventually lead to a lot of suspicion in regards to her whereabouts, thoughts, and whatnot. This would be followed by a sense of entitlement. They'd bagged the beautiful French girl, or in some cases, the 'veela'. It always lead to a break up and weeks spent filled with regret. She didn't want the same thing to happen to her and Bill.

"Bill, I'm fine. I just need some time to think," she replied with a pointed look.

He looked unhappy, like he wanted to pry deeper as to why, but ultimately held his tongue. It made her smile though, seeing his restraint. After a few moments of awkward silence, Bill broke the quiet of the night with an unexpected announcement.

"Well, I came out to tell you Dumbledore just floo called. I don't know what the old man is doing up at this time of night," her lips quirked ever so slightly at the jab, "but he wants the two of us along with my parents and Charlie to come to the school tomorrow morning. Says that it's important… has something to do with the war and the 'current state of things'."

He ended with a casual shrug, but Fleur only grew curious at the sudden summons. It was only convenient that neither of them had work the following day, though if she did the message made it seem like she would have had to attend regardless of her job. Putting that thought aside, she straightened ever so slightly in Bill's grasp.

"The war?" she questioned.

"Yeah, you remember what I told you after our last Order meeting. We discussed this, He-who-must-not-be-named is back and he's coming for all of us, but he's especially coming for the prophesy the Headmaster is always on about… My dad's only just alive right now because of Harry." Bill let out a sigh equal parts weary and relieved. "I for one say this needs to be addressed as soon as possible."

She nodded, distractedly. She had been inducted into the Order after meeting Bill (or William as she sometimes liked to call him, much to his chagrin) at Gringotts and remembering that he was from the same family that her co-competitor in the Triwizard Tournament, Harry Potter, had hung around. In a way the wizard that was three years her younger had been the one to bring her and Bill together as she remembered seeing the long haired ginger the day of the third task. Since their first meeting at Gringotts, the two quickly became friends and eventually she was approached by Bill and Dumbledore to join the Order – a group looking to "make a difference" in the world. She joined because she was one of the few who believed what Harry said about Voldemort's return. She saw his eyes that night and in spite of the raging emotions in them, they were honest eyes. Eyes she would likely never forget.

"Should we be concerned?" she asked her boyfriend. He simply shook his head and pulled her into a tighter hug, his ginger locks bouncing with the movement. She nodded against his chest and they stayed like that for a while before Bill finally decided it was time to go to bed. When she didn't move, he frowned. He lingered at the door for a while, before deciding to leave her to her isolation for a little while longer.

"Don't stay up too late, love. We're likely to have a long day tomorrow."

She nodded back with a smile that soon disappeared into a look of melancholy as he shut the door. Her curiosity over the unexpected summons distracted her from her previous mulling over of her current relationship, though those thoughts eventually gave way to memories of her time spent at Hogwarts last year. Thoughts of a competition she'd barely survived as well as the boy who'd helped her nearly every step of the way. The boy who'd given her one of the most amazing nights of her life.

The boy whom she'd called "leetle".

Fleur unconsciously groaned at the memory of yesteryear, the night skies paying witness to her embarrassment, but a smile soon worked its way across her lips as she remembered what had transpired between the two champions on the night of the Yule Ball. Perhaps a visit to Hogwarts was just what she needed. With that reasoning, she turned to stare up at the stars for a while longer, not knowing how her life would be changed in the coming days.

* * *

In a manor on a steep hill located in the northern parts of France, a couple that appeared to be in their mid-forties stared into a fire with contemplative frowns on their faces. They'd just received a call from their long-time friend and protégé, Albus Dumbledore. He had informed them that their presence was required at Hogwarts the following morning. "Required", not "requested".

_Seems some things never can change_, they thought.

They had half a mind to turn down the 'offer' and even attempted to do so multiple times, but Albus would not relent. He insisted that it was a matter of most importance that would only benefit them and those attending. When asked for further information, all he would reveal was that it had to do with their legendary creation, the war, and the future of the wizarding world. When none of those topics seemed to work, he uttered two words that made them stop – Harry Potter.

That brought them up short. The two had long been waiting for a chance to meet the young man who had risked his life to protect something they didn't even have a need for simply out of moral obligation. It was a rare soul who did such things and when Albus told them of what he'd faced in order to do so, they wanted to personally thank the boy for his efforts and see if he measured up to their expectations, only to be repeatedly denied access to him by their former pupil. Now they were being given the chance to do so in person by that very same friend. It was an opportunity they couldn't pass up. However, that didn't make them lower their guard. They had secrets well worth protecting and they knew others would be coming to this mysterious meeting as well. The reclusive pair would have to be cautious.

"Come, Nicholas. Let's get some sleep before we travel tomorrow," the lady spoke. She was a tall woman outlined by blonde hair that reached down to her buttocks, with grey eyes and light red lips. Her figure was well maintained for a woman seemingly in her mid-forties, and in even better shape for a woman who was in all actuality over six hundred years old. The man she was speaking to, her husband of over several centuries, was a mildly tanned man of slightly above average height. He sported dark grey hair with weaves of black and white intermixed. The both of them carried vast amounts of knowledge that shown in their eyes alone, fixed with an aura of age and understanding.

"Maybe in a minute or so, Perenelle," the man absentmindedly replied.

A scoff and a kiss on the cheek was what he got. The women smiled at her husband's possessive antics and walked calmly and quietly to their bedroom, not bothering to wait up, knowing her beloveds habits of contemplating things to oblivion. True to her thoughts, her husband stayed up the rest of the night, having little need for sleep, contemplating the sudden sense of change that he felt in the winds.

* * *

Aberforth Dumbledore set down another tankard of mead as he looked around his establishment; the Hogs Head. It provided the perfect atmosphere for him to think things through. At this time of night hardly any patrons were up and about save one or two who usually couldn't sleep. Luck was on his side tonight as the only other person up in the bar was an old lady who had long since fallen asleep and was snoring peacefully in a recliner by the hearth. The fire was still on and the firewood was softly crackling and snapping. Aberforth never failed to marvel at how the soft wind outside and how the drips of the faucets and beer taps always seemed to combine into a natural lullaby. He was thankful for the true solace his home provided. Tonight was one of the nights where he really needed it.

He had been floo-called by his estranged brother a few minutes ago. What the old goat was doing up at this time of night, he didn't concern himself over. What he was concerned over was the matter on which his brother had called about. Apparently, the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts requested his presence for a special meeting in the Great Hall the following morning. Aberforth quickly declined, as his brother had no doubt expected if his serene smile was anything to go by. Much to his chagrin, Albus took this as his queue to go on a fond tangent of why he needed to come to this meeting.

Annoyance bled into exasperation, which quickly turned hostile when Dumbledore mentioned their family. They got into yet another one sided row over everything and nothing before Aberforth finally grew a brain and cut the connection. Talking to his brother was often times like talking to a wall. A wall he wanted to punch. A wall he wanted to demand answers from. A wall that he'd long since stopped missing.

Hours later, however, he couldn't deny that the meeting had caught his attention. From what little information was given before their little verbal spar began, the meeting concerned one Harry Potter and the future of the wizarding world. All very good stuff, he was sure and why his brother would call him, he didn't know. He'd only said the matter directly involved him to some extent…

Aberforth sighed. He didn't know what to think. With a half-minded twist of his wand he drew himself up a pint of ale and stayed up all night contemplating his decision.

At the same time in a far less welcoming place, a woman walked along the path of 'Malfoy Manner' grounds. She had taken to walking a lot recently. She was angry, hurt, frustrated, and confused all at once. Her life of late could be considered a powerful cultural shock after her many long years… abroad. That's a term she felt could be used for imprisonment in Azkaban. After all, it was like a long holiday from real life, just not a pleasant one.

At the thought of the word "pleasant", both dark and immature thoughts came to the forefront of her mind. Thankfully, they were quickly batted away in annoyance. She'd been doing that a lot recently. Ever since her release she'd been receiving more and more unbidden dark thoughts from places unknown. Every time she tried to think of an explanation for her current mental state, she closed off all thought on the matter as though refusing to acknowledge what her heart was telling her. Still, she acted on it, refusing to eat any of the food in front of her, and playing the part expected of her. Yet everyday her concerns grew and grew as the grip that held her sanity loosened more and more.

She felt bitter and lost and that was not a good combination for a witch of her power and ability. Needless to say, she was surprised when a soft melody brought a sense of peace to her senses. Turning her heard she gasped at seeing what she could only assume was a phoenix, though a majestic and unusual one, perching on a tree not far from her.

"A phoenix", she questioned aloud. She'd been doing _that_ a lot recently as well. "On these grounds?" She scoffed at the thought.

The sudden appearance of the legendary avian set her on high alert and she deftly brandished her wand at the creature. She sneered at it as a sign to leave but it just stared stonily back at her with emerald eyes demanding obedience and patience. Absentmindedly, she half-lowered her wand, never allowing herself to be fully unprepared no matter the situation. If memory served her right, it wasn't the bumbling old muggle lovers pet.

A few seconds later a ghostly presence pushed against her barriers, and she immediately raised her defenses as she snarled at the avian in surprise at its intrusion to her mind, to no avail. The force just went through her rudimentary mental shields, bringing with it a sense of peace and comfort, and one of slight sorrow.

"Troubled one," an ethereal voice spoke softly in her head. Amethyst eyes widened in shock. "You have been called."

Memories flooded her cortex, images and sounds, things long forcibly buried and erased. Pain. Despair. Hopelessness. A sharp, cruel laugh.

Darkness took Bellatrix Lestrange for the last time, even as the voice repeated.

"You have been called…"

* * *

Omake #1

(with title ala Dr. Strangelove)

Harry Potter Pairings: or How I Learned to Start Caring and Hate the Fanon

Since this is a harem story (or will be eventually) I figured I'd throw my two cents in right at the start in regards to the various pairings. Personally, I've been burnt out with just about all of the HP fanon and canon pairings. The women are all so familiar after the hundredth story, not to mention ridiculously similar to one another, which is sad when you consider just how many possible pairings with potential for serious versatility there are in this particular universe. There should be a decent amount of variety in the fanon, but there just isn't.

A lot of the blame can be laid at the feet of sheer hormones, laziness, or a base lack of creativity. Likely a mixture of the three is prevalent in just about all Harem tales. Sure, it's convenient to copy and paste emphasized stereotypes of fictional characters like Hermione or Ginny from the books. Fair enough. What's the excuse for characters that aren't even fleshed out, though? Characters like Daphne Greengrass, Susan Bones, Fleur Delacour, and less recognizable ones like Mandy Brocklehurst or Leanne? You see them in numerous stories, or at least their names. OC's practically abound in the wizarding world, Rowling allowed us that much, yet fic after fic and story after story they almost all come off the same shade of vanilla or dingy black. Why?

One of the problems is people just write female characters to offer a character a decent pairing they themselves would readily be interested in. This is a big problem because, frankly speaking, most writers are immature little gits who prefer their women strong, independent, but obedient in all the right ways, with a smoking body and a sense of humor to boot. That's not bad, but… that's more or less where they leave the female development. Very few writers actually take the time to create a personal, believable female character with the intent to keep them single and serve as something more than a plot convenience or fictional sex toy. They're there almost singularly to be the girlfriend or third wife of our "lord and savior Harry Potter" or some such rubbish. And that's exactly what most of it is - rubbish.

As a quick disclaimer, I'm not saying my rather animated story won't follow the same despicable footsteps, but I'll try to at least be meta about it if I can't bring anything substantial to their personalities. In the meantime, here are a few examples of specific character tropes and clichés that I really would like more people to avoid.

**Hermione**: Harry and Hermione. What can I say? While I'm a fan of their pairing in canon (seriously, Ron? what the fuck Rowling?), I can't see a reason why any author would want to pair the two together if they were going to just change Harry's character to drastic levels like most stories eventually do. There are exceptions to even that, though. Regardless, I admit this pairing has been done until the cows have come home. The few attempts to change Hermione into a more interesting character than her strictly academic, authority revering, and uncommonly loyal personality almost always backfires with various levels of Dark!Hermione paired with a Dark!Harry, wherein she talks even more superior than she comes off in canon, knows all pureblood practices as well as how to counter them (similarly acting elitist herself), and parades around like a horny female dog half of the time and not in a believable 'cutesy couple' way either. Most people just don't know how to write a good Hermione without letting testosterone, hormones, or agitation at the canon character seep into their story. I find it difficult myself! On the rare occurrences where they do write an interesting or at least consistent Hermione, her character is hardly ever truly compatible with the Harry found in the story. And yet, most of the heterosexual Harry pairings on are with Hermione… go figure?

**Daphne**: While it's true that there is nothing new under the sun, the way in which we view things or the way in which they're presented to us can differentiate drastically. That's not so the case for this pairing. The amount of true originality fanfic writers have is ridiculous, and I can sum it all up just by looking at the stereotype of Daphne. Two words: Ice Princess. Seriously, I hardly EVER stumble on a story where Daphne is not some weary and wise beyond her years girl simply hiding behind a frigid mask, with the weight of her family on her being the oldest daughter, etc. Does no one want to deviate from an incredibly worn out story? I'm tired of pureblood supremacy and muggle-revolution themes in general to be quite honest, though I grudgingly accept it plays an important factor in Harry's world. It's alright to acknowledge the social tension present there and using a pureblood character to further flesh it out is indeed preferred. Unfortunately, Daphne is - more often than not -becoming a caricature of pureblood dogma and vulnerability which authors can then deconstruct via a suave, powerful, intelligent, honest, or rich Harry (usually a mixture of all five). Does no one think that pureblood students may actually just be less than average teenagers with just a few stricter rules and older traditions than mundane children, figuratively speaking? Am I the only one that pictures a world where purebloods aren't trained by the time they can walk in the ways of superiority and etiquette? Eventually this pairing devolves into a lot of supposed 'elitist and courtroom intrigue', discord among families (including hers quite often) and Harry having to prove himself and champion over all others with the support of his genius Ice Princess. Yeah, I used to love the uniqueness in the Harry/Daphne pairing, but that ship has long since sailed and it will take a while for me to fall for it once more. Thank you fanon! Oh, and if she's an Ice Princess, I'm assuming due to her age, who's the Ice Queen? Is there one? *le sigh*

**Tracey**: One would normally find Tracey lurking in the ever present shadow of Daphne. Does this girl ever take center stage to her Greengrass counterpart? To put it plainly, she's usually either a dumber and/or more mischievous version of her stereotypically blonde friend (like a 'Ron' to Daphne's 'Harry'…. *shudder*), or she's a slave and/or owes Daphne a life debt, a miscellaneous romp in the sack for a Cassanova!Harry, or simply not in the story at all. Those are the main options people choose with a Slytherin girl that has about just as much canon screen time as her infinitely more popular Ice Princess alternative. What's sad is I find more potential in this character than I do Daphne because Tracey's an actual half-blood in Slytherin of all things. That has to be some sort of a dramatic cornerstone for a potential relationship between Harry and her. It'd be interesting to see another half-blood perspective in the house other than Tom Riddle. Yet do people actually explore that particular avenue in any capacity other than she's repeatedly bullied in Slytherin and relies on Daphne and sometimes Blaise to guide and protect her? No, they don't! And I can't even see why other than she's less popular and people can't often think for themselves. Humbug!

**Fleur**: Again, there's potential in this pairing, though it's also been milked fairly well. This is unavoidable with a property as popular as Harry Potter, I get it. I just wish I could see a good Harry/Fleur pairing where her veela nature (she's supposedly only a quarter-veela!) doesn't play such a paramount part of their pairing. Sure, they're both desired and envied for things beyond their control and Fleur does have to struggle with her beauty, but that doesn't mean she has to be an insecure, skeptic husk waiting for love, or a high-nosed, prissy, pre-Madonna that gets taken down a few pegs by Harry. I'm tired of soul bonds and "loving me for me" (see "Tonks"). I want to shoot my head whenever Fleur is just a horny girl whose "nature" dictates that she shag a new and improved Boy Who Lived. Truthfully, this is probably my favorite pairing in all of canon. It started when I first experienced The Goblet of Fire and thought of the two champions bonding over their hardship and alienation after an initially rocky start. It's sad to see so few stories featuring our Beauxbatons champion that don't actually make me want to close the tab immediately. For a proper example of a brilliant Fleur, take a gander at jbern's "The Lie I've Lived".

**Tonks**: Similar to Harry/Fleur, a Tonks pairing has a lot of potential for romance as well as humor. She's a punk! Unfortunately, most of her potential is unsurprisingly squandered on devious acts in the bedroom with a horny "Nym" wanting to get her jollies off with the Boy-Who-Shagged-her-senseless, or moaning after the first "man" to love her for being her and/or asked to see "the real Tonks". *eye-roll* She's a metamorphmagus. Who's to say she has a 'base' form that she's consciously tucked away? I don't remember that in canon. Why can't she just be a humorous, slightly immature, hard to place young adult woman who happens to have a neat gimmick that doesn't necessarily define her every move. Few stories accomplish the balancing act that's required when it comes to the woman-child that Nymphadora is, and fewer keep her sense of fun throughout.

**Luna**: Once again stereotypes abound, and in the case of Luna, she is often loonier than canon in them. Admittedly, her eccentricities are a strong characteristic of hers that shouldn't necessarily be changed, only reigned in. Most writers have her appear either downright barmy, grant her the persona of an all-knowing seer, or an open-minded witch who is far more intelligent and coherent than we thought previously. She was apparently just waiting for the right guy to reveal her 'true' self to. None of these are necessarily bad character points, don't get me wrong, but they also don't offer much excitement or surprise when people don't flesh them out further after the umpteenth time. Remember a particular friend in high school that was eccentric? That exaggerated stories or lied profusely, or dressed strangely? Wasn't most of that a phase they went through due to a sense of trauma or a requirement for a certain affection or stemming from loneliness? I hardly ever see a writer approach Luna's oddness as something that can be changed or taken away, or just acknowledged without overbearingly being present. If anything, Luna has become a character I just expect to be there and have some weird response to something. I am now fully apathetic to her character and likely will remain so for the rest of my duration in the fandom until a really good story comes along and surprises me. It's a shame, because her platonic side character in the original universe is easily one of the more enjoyable interjections to the latter books.

**Susan**: *see Daphne, though with more of an emphasis on her Aunt's position in the Ministry and being less open minded about the dark arts. Basically a more resourceful, well connected version of Ginny that isn't Harry's best mate's sister. I actually don't mind most Susan pairings so much as what they bring along with them, such as dues ex machina in the form of Amelia Bones or a connection to Neville Longbottom and his grandparents (and a slew of 'secretly light sided families'). Yuck. More fun, perky, Susan Bones, less political maneuvering please.

**Hannah**: *see Tracey with a less interesting set of circumstances…

**Gabrielle**: *see Fleur, with an emphasis on a creature needing sex and/or soul bonds and life debts and with a lingering desire to debase Fleur in comparison to the younger, more nubile and 'purer' sister. Double yuck.

**Katie**: Hardly ever fleshed out, Katie is just another blank OC for writers to put the minimalist amount of effort into so they have another girl to add to Harry's massive harem. Funnily enough, hers is the name I enjoy seeing most of all in the Hogwarts list of girls in the background (alongside Mandy Brocklehurst). A short and sweet name, a seemingly cheerful personality from what we've seen of her in canon, someone who believably interacts with Harry on a recurring basis, and victim of a dark curse in book six that in itself serves as a pretty interesting catalyst? More should definitely be done with her character than just 'generic quiditch player with boobs number 3'. Come on, fellas (and ladies)!

**Ginny**: Hmm… I don't hate the pairing in fanfic if done immaculately well, though I often loathe it in canon due to its sheer abruptness, the character of Ginny not being nearly fleshed out enough for such emphasis to be placed on her in the end, and the fact that I'm not a fan of Harry dating his 'best mates' sister in general. It happens sometimes, I know, but that has to be a little awkward for at least two thirds of the Golden Trio. Also, I've had enough of Ginny trying to prove herself by undermining her idiotic brother or other siblings. I'm not a huge Ron fan, and could even come to despising him in some cases, but what sister tarnishes her brothers image as often as fanfic!Ginny does in order to make herself look better in the eyes of said brothers best friend and her peers? It just doesn't work that way. The Weasley's are supposed to be a very tight-knit family, borderline incestuous according to some. Jokes and pokes aside, Ginny often seems to loathe Ron to the point of hate in many stories, as though they're an avatar for the writer who has it out for almost everyone's least favorite member of the golden trio. It just doesn't seem plausible unless it's actually fleshed out with AU elements, like Ron doing everything to steadily deserve it (which leads in turn to Ron bashing, which is old and worn out). Few go the extra mile to do that. Lastly, slut!Ginny is just as bad and plain stupid. Believable? Eh, maybe with the right injections to the story. Tasteful or even necessary? Not remotely! It's often just a ploy for smut stories, harem fics, or plots that make other (more modest) girls look better by comparison. After those two versions of Ginny (the smart, independent, anti-Ron version or the slutty, loyal to Dumbledore and the light and plotting rapist), I haven't seen too many different versions of her. One exception readily available is GinnyMyLove's "Searching For the Power". That's it so far.

**Conclusion:** In all honesty, I've fallen into many of these pitfalls myself at times. While writing, it's difficult not to let foreign stories influence your work. When you read dozens of stories a month, many of them repetitious in terms of character development and personality traits, it's hard not to go with the tide. It's not an all encompassing excuse though! Even if you focus on just two or three characters to just alienate from the story, flesh out, or further define in your story, it is better than not changing fanon at all. Challenge yourself and the reader by keeping things fresh. If you set out to tell a good story, regardless of originality, you'll often times create something original as a whole. C.S. Lewis said that and I paraphrased, but it's true. However, it doesn't mean you can't aim to shake reader's expectations up a bit. Throw in a superficial and non-Ice Queen Daphne, or an intelligent and ambitious Tracey. Perhaps even a Hufflepuff Ginny without a backbone and bereft of standard socializing capabilities. Who knows what pairing frontiers are out there, waiting to be discovered. Just some food for thought…

Thanks again for the read.


	2. Prologue II: The Gathering

Saturday morning dawned early on the castle's occupants, some of whom were woken by the soft rattling of the rain and wind against the window panes. It seemed the Scottish land was still clinging to any last vestiges of winter that it could, as a cold front had blown in over the course of the night. The daytime temperature fell to a chilly negative-fifteen degree Celsius from its once acceptable thirteen degrees the day prior. Thankfully, the interior of the castle was enchanted to keep its occupants as warm and dry as possible. Even so, most of the students and staff wound up dawning thick jumpers and long pants with stockings or high socks for the day, or in the case of certain purebloods, long and thick robes accompanied by several warming charms.

The student body, out of habit, woke groggily for breakfast despite knowing there was to be no quidditch game to be had today. Usually this would be the day on which the annual Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match would take place, but thanks to a certain toad-like High Inquisitor with a fetish for cats, the game between the Badgers and the Lions was cancelled, much to the ire of all the houses.

Yesterday, after receiving a floo call from the Minister of Magic, Dolores Umbridge had discovered that a meeting was to take place in the Great Hall the following morning regarding the so called "war" Dumbledore constantly prattled on about, as well as certain matters at the school that he should be made aware of. The Minister was surprised that the she hadn't heard about it until just that moment, and quickly ended the call when she began using her _super_ sickly sweet voice, knowing that it was a sign of an imminent emotional blow up from the supposed DADA professor. The feline loving woman was so incensed by the thought of Dumbledore holding a meeting about such rubbish, that she was in a bad mood for the rest of the day. The old fool hadn't even bothered informing her about the event, not to mention his daring for bringing the Minister into such matters as well. Worst of all she was repeatedly unable to locate said Headmaster to whom her ire was directed. In her rage, she immediately and unrepentantly took her frustrations out on the only people she could: the students.

By the end of the day, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and even Slytherin had lost a total of 125 points for anything and everything that further angered the woman. Gryffindor alone lost half of those points, further solidifying their place at the very bottom in the running for the House Cup. This was on top of the quidditch game for the following day being cancelled. She hadn't even bothered coming up with a plausible excuse for it, but had rather awarded both teams with detention when they'd angrily questioned her decision. Dolores, foolish as she was, didn't even know that she was doing the Headmaster a favor, as he was going to cancel the quidditch game anyway. Rather that she gain the students animosity for taking away their beloved pastime, than he. Dumbledore feared many of them would have enough reason to resent him soon enough.

As the castle's occupants woke up, did their morning business, and proceeded to the Hall for breakfast, they were unaware of the guests the school would host that morning.

The first arrivals at the Great Hall instantly noticed the changes in the room. The staff table had been extended to nearly double its usual length, but it was bent into a perfect crescent shape, allowing anyone sitting at the raised dais a clear view of everyone else in the hall, and vice versa. The Gryffindor table also underwent some notable changes as another table was added to its length. The addition of some two dozen seats to the hall in the form of new furniture did not go unnoticed by any of the staff or students. The staff had been informed that a meeting was to take place that day, though the students figured that whatever the cause of the change was, it would be revealed sooner or later. While everyone went about their morning business and the befuddled visitors started trickling in, a certain emerald-eyed boy was just waking up from a once blissful phoenix induced sleep.

* * *

**Gryffindor Fifth Year Boys Dormitory, Hogwarts - 8:37am – Saturday, February 21st, 1996**

Harry awoke from an actual nights worth of peaceful sleep, the likes of which he hadn't had since his first year at Hogwarts. Back when he didn't have dreams of dark lords, nightmares of giant snakes, lingering thoughts on confronting a convicted murderer, restlessness over a dangerous tournament, and now visions of a mysterious hall plaguing his mind. Instead, the slumber he'd just retreated from had been pleasant; dreamless and rejuvenating. Harry felt that the bags under his eyes had lessened substantially by now. It was almost as though life had slowly crept back into his being while he'd slept, though he didn't know the cause of this sudden turn of events. Still, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the eye. With a small but content smile, he blinked away the remaining effects of sleep and stared into the darkness of the ceiling, allowing the moment of relative quiet to sink in.

Sighing to himself at the passing of the moment, he eventually swung his legs over the side of the bed with his head bowed and wiped his eyes as his unruly black hair covered his peripheral view. Looking up and around at the surprisingly quiet dorm room, he noticed something off. He'd always been an early riser and as such had grown accustomed to being the first of his dorm mates to wake up. The absence of snoring struck him as odd, but he was too content with the solace of an empty room to question his dorm mate's absence. No groans of complaint at having to get up from Ron and Neville, no glares of suspicion from a stubborn Seamus or mutters of condolence from an apologetic Dean. It was a nice change of pace for him to actually just enjoy the morning for once – listening to the rain rattling softly against the windows and basking in the small tendrils of light that were now seeping into the room through the openings in the curtains.

Harry looked at the nightstand by his bed where he usually placed his glasses, only to see a blurry lump alongside his spectacles. Grasping the outline of his glasses and slipping them on, he stared at the dark package that hadn't been there the night prior. His name was written neatly across the top, where a note was tied to the package. He hadn't remembered anyone delivering anything to his room the day prior, and if it was from one of his roommates, they would have simply given it to him in person. Not that he thought the package was from any of his roommates. Ron just wasn't financially able to hand gifts out on a whim, Neville didn't owe him anything that he wouldn't hand him in person, Seamus and he barely talked to one another since their last row about the Prophet's articles, and Dean wouldn't blatantly disregard his Irish friends feelings in spite of his maintained friendship with Harry. Hermione wasn't likely to sneak into his room and just leave a gift, and he doubted Ginny or any of his other friends would be able to coerce his dorm mates into sneaking something into his room. Not to mention the fact that none of them had occasion to give Harry anything.

All this speculation was providing the package was a gift in the first place. But he hadn't loaned anyone anything nor was he expecting something. The package wasn't there the night before, which meant someone had entered the room while he was sleeping, and Harry doubted it was a house elf's doing. Dumbledore hadn't looked him in the eye in months so he quickly discarded that idea, as the elves only answered to the Headmasters commands, with the exception of Dobby. That left one logical possibility: the package was from someone who'd snuck into their dorm room who didn't belong there, but had access nonetheless.

Now somewhat wary of the mysterious parcel, Harry drew his wand from beneath his pillow and pointed it at the package. With a muttered "wingardium leviosa" the box was levitated over to his bed. Harry took a breath and cautiously reached for the note that was tied to the top of the package, ready to pull his hand back at the first sign of danger. After all, it wouldn't be above the twins to try and prank Harry, and they had access to their dorm room since they were Gryffindors. He hadn't been on the receiving end of one of their pranks in his entire time at Hogwarts - something Ron was rather envious of - and perhaps they figured it was past due. That was a slim chance, however, as Harry figured even the Twins wouldn't risk pranking him in his current emotional state. A small part of him only hoped it was a prank. He knew it could be something much worse, as his thoughts drifted to a particular diary he'd found in his second year. Protected, Hogwarts may have been. But impenetrable and completely safe? Not in the least.

Harry was still a Gryffindor though, and at the moment he was curious, so he picked the note up and hurriedly inspected it with his eyes and hands for any trickery. Hoping it was safe and not carrying anything like bubotuber puss, he unfolded the parchment and found that it was not only lacking of any immediate reaction, but rather crisp and clean. It featured elegant writing via a deep blue ink, unlike his usual hurried scrawl, though there were similarities. Sighing in temporary relief, he read the message silently.

_Harry,_

_Let me start off by saying you don't know me - at least, not yet you don't. Perhaps in time you may, but until that time comes, "who" I am is not important. Just think of me as an honestly concerned third party who knows you not by mere reputation (I'm aware of the "Prophets" lies), but by your actions, which I have closely followed for some time now. Again, the "how" isn't important either. If I may be so bold, it's possible to say that I may know you better than you likely know yourself at the moment, but that sounds like something a certain snake-nosed bastard would say to fresh DE's in a recruitment ceremony. The mere thought of it gives me pause and extreme nausea._

_Now, in case you're wondering, I'm not associated with that bald, deformed, bigoted, lying, half-blood ponce, nor am I associated with the meddling old man. I can't prove any of this with a mere letter, so you'll just have to take my word for it until I can... or not. Trust your instinct like you always do. Soon enough these secrets and much more will be explained (far sooner than you think), but until then my advice is this – go along with it. You've made it this far on terms not set by yourself, so it's just a little longer until you can live your life as you see fit. _

_Enclosed in this package are a few gifts. Nothing fancy, just some things I felt you could use in the coming days – a few outfits that actually fit you (I'm well aware of your situation with the Dursley's and your lack of muggle income), a wand holster (you'll likely need it before the week is even out), and a few hard-to-find books on advanced charms and a specific one on Occlumency. In regards to the clothes, I know you are not a vain person, Harry, but you'll be glad you had something decent to wear in the coming days. At the very least, a certain romantic interest of yours will be rather pleased by the change in your attire. Regardless of whether she is or not, you'll need to impress some important people real soon, as first appearances are the foundation for many relationships._

_As for the books? Well, you've been so busy with the DA lately that you've hardly had time to teach yourself anything new during your private time. Yes, I know about that too and don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Point is, you do exceedingly well with self-study, as proven by your out-of-this-world Defense scores, and your frequent forays into the Restricted Section produce excellent results – results you hide from everyone. That being said, even Hogwarts is void of certain types of magic, at least to students. These tomes are filled with spells and theories for exceptional minds far beyond your years, but I have faith you'll put them to excellent use._

_It may not seem fair to you, all this trouble now. Well, trust me when I say it isn't… but it's the life you've been dealt. Define yourself in spite of these things; don't let them define you. You're stronger than you think Harry, even if you refuse to see it most of the time._

_Aside from that, I have little else to offer you at this moment. Just a bit of parting advice regarding an upcoming event in particular: Don't worry about it. Take it in stride. Breath. Things may seem bleak, but there is a silver lining to all situations. I wish to god I had had someone there to tell me this when I went through… similar situations. Just know that there's always hope in the times you'll least expect to find it. Like Padfoot said: Forget what you know about the world: light and dark, good and evil, and just remember that we have both lightness and darkness within us. We simply have to choose which path we'll follow more. I have the utmost faith in you that you'll choose the right path._

_Until next time Harry. Sincerely, _

_A Friend_

Harry's mind was blank for a moment. He didn't know what to think of the message or its sender. Whoever it was that had written him, they'd known far more about Harry than anyone else had a right to. They even spoke in a way that absentmindedly reminded Harry of himself - elusive at certain things, but to the point in general, and instinctually humorous about subjects he'd rather not talk about. The person had even quoted what Sirius had said to him over the holiday break, nearly verbatim. Common sense screamed at him to question this mystery persons intentions and to worry over how it was that they had found out all of the things he'd been through until recently. Yet in spite of his doubts, Harry eventually elected to trust the letter and by extension its sender. If htye meant him harm, they could have used their insight into his life long ago to his detriment. They hadn't and he had to settle for that at least. Thus he proceeded to cautiously open the parcel, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind.

Inside he found exactly what the letter said he would. A few rather stylish outfits that he had to admit looked rather nice were on the top of the pile of gifts. They were far better than the usual Hogwarts robes he wore, which covered practically everything for both female and male student alike. The school robes were definitely proffered over Dudley's hand-me-downs or the slim fit but worn-down clothes his relatives grudgingly bought him from cheap thrift stores.

In truth, Harry had always wanted clothes like this; clothes that were sharp and in good taste. It wasn't for his ego, as he rarely cared about what others thought of him, something he'd instilled in himself at a young age. Instead, it was rather from a need to make his parents proud by looking like more than a boy with seemingly embarrassing taste in fashion. Unfortunately, the stores in Diagon Alley didn't sell muggle clothes and he hadn't discovered the ability to convert galleons into dollars until just this past year and hadn't had a chance to go shopping due to outlying circumstances. Now he didn't have to worry about any of that as he had enough clothes here to keep him going on weekends alone for the rest of the school year without their appearance growing old.

He did his best to feel around the smooth material of the outfits to make sure no side effects were activated upon touch. He definitely didn't want to turn into Moody, but he could never be too careful with something sent from a stranger. Since he didn't know any detection charms other than the basics, he cast them first and then followed it up with an overpowered "finite" on the whole lot. Going with his gut instinct, he deemed the clothes safe enough for use and set them aside to deal with later.

Next up was a black leather bracer made of what seemed to be dragon hide, with three straps to secure the holster around his forearm. A small note on the side of the wand-holster told him how to attach it comfortably to his arm, as well as how to summon/retract his wand. Apparently the holster automatically shrunk the wand into a pocket dimension of sorts, because most wands were relatively too long to fit in a simple holster located on one's forearm, something most wizards either overlooked or simply took for granted. It not only served as a wand holster, but thanks to runes etched on its side, it was both summon-proof and invisible upon activation given he ingrained the holster with his magic over the next day. Harry was completely blown away by the possibilities of the runes placed on the simple contraption and once again regretted not taking Ancient Runes, despite learning what he could on the subject in his spare time with books that Sirius had sent him.

He attached and activated the wand holster to his right forearm, and then proceeded to empty out the contents of the package. All that was left were four books; a weathered and beaten tome on advanced dueling tactics, a leather-bound book that apparently taught the theories and enforced the practical methods of the mind arts, and two plain looking books on hard to come by advanced charms, including healing magic (something he'd wished he had studied earlier with all of the injuries he had received over the years). Satisfied that the books were what they claimed to be and nothing else, and haltingly thankful for the help from the mysterious stranger, Harry decided to hide the books away for the moment and placed his new clothes away save for an outfit he'd picked out to wear for the chilly day.

With that done he decided a nice warm shower was in order, as he now had even more things to contemplate and he was in no hurry to get to breakfast. He wasn't aware of the pair of eyes that followed his path to the bathroom - eyes that had seen everything that morning - before disappearing in a flash of indigo fire, content that his friend was pleased with his own gift.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry stepped out of his shower feeling thoroughly clean for the first time in a long time. He'd recently taken to going under cold showers in the hopes of forcing his sleep deprived mind to wake. Today, however, he was able to take a nice hot shower and just allow the stress to roll off of him while contemplating the mystery behind package he'd received. Though remaining cautious, he decided to take the senders advice for now and just take it all in stride as he always had. As it was, he ended up leaving the shower feeling better than he had in months. A part of him felt that it was all too good to last, but he opted to ignore it in light of his current mood and proceeded back to his closet feeling somewhat weightless, and not just due to the fact that he was still starkers.

With little deliberation, Harry changed into the outfit he'd previously left out consisting of a slim-fit tee under a charcoal black blazer that sat snug on his lean frame, followed by jet black designer jeans and obligatory leather chucks. Turning to the mirror with no small amount of skepticism, he couldn't help but laugh at what he saw. He'd done it - looked like a proper teen! Though he initially second guessed the blazer, due to its similarities to what the likes of Malfoy or Smith often swaggered around in, he figured it was too perfect a fit not to wear, especially on such a chilly day. What made him chuckle again, however, was the tee he'd chosen to wear. It was a nice forest green with the words "Filch for Minister" scripted across the front in bold lettering, accompanied by an exaggerative drawing of the man mid snarl. It was equal parts stylish as it was off the wall funny, and he was sure his friends would get a kick out of it.

All in all, it was a new feeling for Harry. Having clothes that actually fit him that weren't either school robes tailored for him by Madame Malkin, Mrs. Weasley's comfy but thick jumpers, or his god-awful cousin's overlarge hand me downs. The mirror in the bathroom presented him with a rather good-looking reflection and he felt a sense of both pride in his appearance and gratitude towards the anonymous stranger who had sent him the helpful package. Stepping out of the dormitory after he dumped his old clothes and towel into the laundry bin, Harry left the room to the sounds of the rain pattering the windowsill.

His strange morning luck seemed to remain with him as he didn't find anyone present in the common room, which meant he would be able to avoid the aggravating looks of suspicion or pity sent to him from members of his own house. Outside of those on the Quidditch team or in the D.A., which were really the only group of people who'd ever taken the time to actually get to know him, the majority of his house was on the fence about Voldemort being back and decided to remain cautious of their currently questionable golden-boy. The Daily Prophets articles hadn't done him any favors among those in his house, but he figured they were just sheep and couldn't blame them too much for following the word of the press without taking the time to dig a little deeper for themselves. He acknowledged the fact that there was a strong possibility he might have acted similarly were the roles reversed with someone else being hounded by the media. Then again, with his admittedly curious nature and his previous tendency to misadventure, perhaps not.

Shaking his head at thoughts regarding his house's fickleness, Harry reassured himself knowing that soon enough he'd at least have a mouth of his own in the media thanks to Luna and Rita's combined efforts. He left the common room through the portrait of the fat lady, who he actually gave a "good-morning" to for once, positive that his friends were already waiting for him down at the Great Hall. He hadn't been aware that he had slept in so late, as he had cast a quick tempus to reveal that breakfast had started a good fifty minutes ago. Still, it wasn't everyday that one slept so well and received such a curious gift, so he figured he was due a late morning for once. Unfortunately for him, he'd chosen the wrong day to show up late to breakfast.

* * *

Harry had arrived at the entrance hall in the span of a few minutes, already well accustomed to the layout of the school. He once again wondered why there were so many unused classrooms and wings in the school, but chalked it up to the population of the school dwindling over time. He'd heard from Hermione somewhere that the castle had been utilized as a safe haven long ago, before it became an academy for magic. That still left a lot of unused space no longer accounted for and if not for the room of requirement, he'd probably have converted one to suit his more private needs. As he was well immersed in these thoughts, as well as the events from earlier that morning, Harry failed to notice he'd arrived at the entrance hall until a chilly presence quickly drove all else from his mind. The Bloody Baron had just passed through the now freezing teen, who quickly recognized the blood-soaked Slytherin ghost.

"Best hurry… they're waiting for you," came the raspy voice from the spectral deceased. Harry had no idea what he was talking about, but made his way into the hall nonetheless, not desiring to spend any more time with the usually fascinating ghost than was needed at the moment. Something about the way the Baron spoke sent shivers down the sole Potter heir's spine. It brought back the feelings of uncertainty he'd felt the prior night. Not to mention what the ghost meant by "they're waiting for you".

Calming himself and drawing a breath for what he hoped to be a mostly empty hall by now, Harry opened the doors to the Great Hall and promptly stood stock still in equal parts shock and confusion.

Crowded; that was the first word that came to mind when he saw the room before him. It was filled to the brim with students of all houses, as though the entire student body had shown up that morning, which they remarkably had. This was a peculiar site as there were usually some people absent from every meal for one reason or another aside from the welcoming and closing feasts. The next thing he noticed was the layout of the room in that it had changed substantially. The staff table had lengthened to nearly twice its usual size and now formed a perfect half-circle on its expanded elevated platform. The Gryffindor table was also an extra table long, running almost to the beginning of the dais, and it was only then that he noticed the additional occupants in the room.

Sitting at the middle of the additional 'Lions table were (from the center of the table clockwise around it): Ron, Hermione, Neville, the Weasley twins and Lee Jordon, who sat across former Gryffindor captain and graduate Oliver Wood, who was next to Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Viktor Krum, Nymphadora Tonks (here Harry especially paused as his eyes zeroed in on her smirking face), Luna Lovegood, a beautiful girl that Harry was positive he'd never seen before, Fleur Delacour, Hermione's reclusive roommate Fay Dunbar, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, who sat across from Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and ended up back at Ron. There was a noticeably empty spot between Ron and Hermione that Harry could only assume was intended for him.

Up at the staff table, from the left side to the right were: Molly Weasley and Arthur Weasley, followed by a man and woman whom Harry had never met before but bore a striking similarity to his favorite auror and seemed pleasant enough, followed by a smiling Remus Lupin, Auror-Captain Kingsley Shacklebolt, a ever vigilante Alastor Moody, the monocle-toting Amelia Bones, another couple seemingly in their forties that Harry had never seen before but gave Harry immediate pause, the owner of the Hog's Head who still struck a startling similarity to Dumbledore, followed by the charms professor Filius Flitwick, herbology professor Pomona Sprout, medi-witch Poppy Pomfrey, flight instructor Rolanda Hooch, transfiguration professor Minerva McGonagall, and the Headmaster himself who was seated in the exact center of the crescent table. The latter half of the dais consisted of the Minister Cornelius Fudge beside Dolores Umbridge, a scowling Percy Weasley, the ever interesting Garrick Ollivander, a comfy Rubeus Hagrid, a portly man Harry had never met who wore a smile and a calculating look, muggle studies professor Charity Burbage, the librarian Irma Pince, ancient runes instructor Bathsheda Babbling, astronomy professor Aurora Sinestra, arithmancy master Septima Vector, a remarkably empty seat, followed by Lucius Malfoy of all people, his beautiful wife Narcissa, and finally a stranger whose identity was conceiled by way of a shrouded veil. It was quite the impressive if not altogether bewildering line-up.

All of this information was taken in over the span of a few seconds, but by the time he was done scanning the room Harry noticed that all eyes were now on him. The hundreds of differing looks directed his way reminded him of the night his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, and it was a feeling that made Harry feel like he was eight again, locked in a dark cupboard for three days. A feeling that once made him feel… small.

Thankfully he wasn't that same boy in a cupboard anymore and he defiantly met their combined gaze with aplomb.

* * *

"Damn those bloody Hogwarts robes. They hide so much."

Though mumbled, the remark was still audible enough for the people in the immediate vicinity to hear. Daphne Greengrass – a Slytherin fifth year currently sandwiched between Tracey Davis and Lily Moon - cursed the school's baggy uniform as she gazed at the object of her long-time secret affections. Her two friends showed their agreement with the slightest of nods, their thoughts mirroring her own as they eyed the 'Boy Who Lived'.

The three had become best friends over the course of their first year in the House of Snakes, bonding in part due to their shared circumstance of being social outcasts in the years prior to attending Hogwarts, due to one reason or another. With time and effort, however, they found solace and even strength with one another. Their previous misfortunes instead forged better witches for it, and the three soon became not only inseparable, but also blossomed in the otherwise muddled Slytherin hierarchy. Contrary to popular belief, the house of Salazar wasn't nearly as totalitarian or elitist as rumor would have one believe, but that didn't mean it was always a cake walk for three attractive and adept witches. Regardless, they'd come a long way from when they'd only been eleven and had first seen the fabled Harry Potter, someone who'd eventually be an unknown uniting factor in their tight-knit relationship.

Daphne was the oldest and most popular of the three. One look at her and it was easy to see why. Not only was she the most socially outgoing of the three, a closet extrovert, but she was also gorgeous. Straight golden blonde hair, green eyes and flawless fair skin complimented by a streamlined body and an impressive height all made her stand out amongst other girls her age. More so, she had a hidden charisma to her person that made her stick out even further in comparison to her peers.

A product of pitch-perfect pureblood upbringing, it could be said that Daphne had it all. However, as expected with the pressures of being an oldest child and living up to a well known family name in various wizarding circles, the pressure of responsibility was stifling. She eventually became disillusioned with the antiquated methods and belief system of witches and wizards past. So it was that in spite of her strict upbringing, Daphne often deviated from the status quo and eventually rebelled in whatever capacity she could. With an early exposure to muggle fashion, social progression, and modern pop-culture thanks to a distant but wonderfully free spirited aunt, Daphne's changes soon became a concern for her family. In response to the rising issue, her father did the only thing he could think of. He tightened the rains on her through various forms of enforcement – groundings, lectures, and finally the occasional magical punishment. While never done out of spite or anger (her parents did love her, after all) the consequences that befell her soon discouraged Daphne from her previous course. Blatant protest wasn't an option for her, or at least not at that time. Instead she rebelled in more overt ways, such as not socializing with other pureblood heirs at social gatherings and dinner parties, being largely unresponsive to most of her tutors and caretakers yet surpassing her parent's expectations, all the while continuing to show little outward interest in anything they wanted her to be involved in. While frustrating to her mother and father, it was still a stark preference to her previous self. Unknown to them, below their daughter's apathetic exterior appearance was a social butterfly waiting to be free, secretly maintaining a keen interest in the rest of the world and desiring a positive change that would serve to distance her from her dated family's beliefs and pressures.

So when she finally arrived at Hogwarts, Daphne saw an opportunity to really let herself go for once. It was gradual, but eventually she'd worked up the courage to be as brash and outspoken as she dared to about topics ranging from misogynistic practices in wizarding society to a lack of equality and practicality in magical government. These were bold topics and opinions for a mere first year to have, and while some met her off-the-wall enthusiasm for untraditional proclivities and progress with utter disdain, most either applauded her boldness or simply overlooked it in lieu of admiring her ability and attractiveness. Bolstered by her friendship with Tracey and Lily, little by little she became rather popular in her house and this eventually gave way to a certain degree of haughtiness. By the time fourth year had rolled around, she could admit she had somewhat lost her initial way, more interesting in partying and appearing progressive than actually being the person she'd wanted to be growing up. Thankfully she was still leagues beyond the level of narcissism and elitism that the likes of Malfoy and his group were capable of. It would still take the help of her loyal friends and a fateful encounter with one thoroughly bewildered Harry Potter to set her straight again.

Daphne was still quite popular in Slytherin, but she'd mellowed out and essentially buckled down. No longer having anything to prove, which she'd come to understand had been her real problem all along, she had improved in her academia and distanced herself from people like Draco and his cronies and some of the more reprehensible upper years. This allowed her to be there for her true friends and discover parts of herself she hadn't previously been aware of. While this progress had been of her own doing, she couldn't deny that a good portion of that credit belonged to the emerald eyed boy wonder that had just entered the packed hall.

Next to her, and in a somewhat polarizing contrast to the Greengrass heir, was Tracey Davis. Tracey was of an average height with small shoulders that belayed a rather athletic build, covered by pale skin and jet black hair that clashed with her startling amethyst eyes. Deceptively aristocratic in her features; high cheekbones, impeccable posture and all, she was in actuality a half-blood. While not unheard of, being a half-blood in Slytherin house was still considered an oddity. Stranger still, she had been the fastest to be sorted into her house, barely touching the hat before it grunted out "Slytherin" and proceeded to vacate her mind. She'd never really explained to her friends what the hat had seen in her to have sorted her so fast, but they surmised it was due to her sheer guile and relentlessness that bordered on ruthless.

She didn't look it, but Tracey had a mean streak that few ever saw and fewer didn't fear to some extent. She could be soft and caring with her friends and some of the younger years, and then disarmingly detached with others and borderline vicious with those who'd earned her ire. Her friends, Lily in particular, had helped to lessen her more bipolar tendencies, but her reasoning for her behavior was still shrouded in mystery to even her closest confidants. In all reality, she only really interacted on a regular basis with three people in the school, they being her two best friends and then her classmate Blaise Zabini, who had never done her wrong. Everyone else simply didn't concern her one way or another. As it was, in spite of her startling beauty, her sharp persona and blood status, accompanied by the known fact that she was the most magically capable of the fifth year Slytherin's often drove her housemates away, and her aloof attitude only diminished the already low likelihood of friendship with her other year mates. The chip on Tracey's shoulder, Daphne often said, was surpassed only by the pervasive nature of their other friend, Lily.

Lily Moon, perhaps the most physically unique of the three fifth-year wonders, was a pureblood who came from a broken home in Japan. Her father had been a British wizard and had even attended Hogwarts as a child. He was a Ravenclaw alumnus who went on to be a magical book collector. His work brought him abroad to Japan where he met a medi-witch whom he had fast become smitten with - Lily's mother. Suffice to say love didn't last and the whirlwind marriage crumbled somewhat violently. This didn't affect Lily as much as one would expect and she eventually joined her father on his return to the Isles.

In a turnaround of Daphne's situation, Lily was very much a product of her parents despite having little real connection with, or expectations from either of them. She readily took after her father's bookishness and more introverted tendencies, but her looks were almost all her mother. A petite frame with an ass that admittedly drew more than a few double takes, covered by fair but not overly tanned skin, and eyes of deep onyx that were all her mums, but her dad saw fit to give her his dark brown hair and a small smattering of freckles. It was an exotic combination and one that paid off if the looks she got were anything to go by.

Even more interesting than her appearance, however, was Lily's hidden secret. She was a closet pervert, something she'd apparently not gotten from either of her parents. It's not that she was a harlot, rather the opposite really as she was still very much so a virgin. No, it was the fact that she possessed a very sexually active mind that was filled with desires even a sometimes rowdy friend like Daphne couldn't fully fathom. Rather than shun her for it when she'd eventually confided in them, her two friends had rather humorously laughed and accepted her weirdness and it was a topic of recurring debate and teasing amongst the three from then on. Thankfully she cast off any suspicion of her more illicit nature by a well rehearsed façade of being shy around others coupled with an honest keenness on learning. After all, her father collected books, and knowledge had been just about the only thing she consistently desired more than a proper boyfriend growing up. Lily assumed she had her father to thank for that as well.

For a while Lily struggled with her sense of identity or lack thereof. Everything she did appeared to be a correlation of her parent's habits and her friend's influences. Her nymph-like fantasies were just about the only thing that set her apart besides her looks. However, someone changed her perspective of herself and had helped her come into her own as a book enthusiast whom she discovered also had a knack for travelling and hosting: Harry Potter.

The long-time object of their collective affections had just walked into the Great Hall, completely oblivious to what he was getting himself into. The first thing the three girls had noticed about him was his new appearance and even the stony-faced Slytherins were shocked at the affect it had on his body. Harry Potter was an enigma for many a girl at Hogwarts, who always wondered why he chose to wear such poor clothing when he was likely one of the richest and most iconic wizards in the past century. For girls who were attracted to the boy, either through his actions committed while in school or out of desire for his fame, the bulky school robes and hand-me-downs that he wore were constantly the cause of some frustration.

Apparently, the robes and overlarge clothes had hidden more than anyone had thought possible. What no one knew was that Harry had taken up an exercise regiment since late in his third year, something few wizards, muggleborn or otherwise, hardly ever bothered doing. It was true when people said that magical people took a lot of things for granted. Among that list of neglected items was their physical health. With magic being the ultimate clutch, muggleborns who entered the wizarding world quickly built a lazy complex that few ever fought off or broke free of, while purebloods or children raised in the wizarding world's culture found exercise either beneath them or were never exposed to the benefits of an optimized and healthy well being. Thankfully, Harry wasn't among this group. Between his exercise routines from his third year onward, and his usual quidditch training for five years straight, he'd developed quite the lean body that had previously hidden behind thick Weasley jumpers or overlarge clothing.

One might think that Harry would have been affected by the years of malnourishment at the hands of the Dursley's, stunting any real growth he'd ever stand to have. Thankfully, his pre-pubescent magic had reduced the majority of the damages done by his constant starving, and with three healthy meals a day for five years at Hogwarts, not counting the food he received over the summers from his friends or at their respective houses, and he'd filled out quite nicely in spite of his less than wholesome childhood. While he'd never be anything close to a body-builder, he'd managed to become lean yet broad shouldered in physical appearance, which was a strong improvement over the majority of the men in the wizarding world.

The inspired tee he sported clung to his chest and exposed his rather cut torso, while the fitted blazer imposed his shoulders and bulged slightly at his arms. The style of clothing he wore screamed 'muggle!' which in term translated to style to muggleborn girls and meant rebellious to pureblood girls, with half-bloods of both minds. It didn't really matter what they called it, as they all thought the same thing when they saw the oblivious green-eyed boy enter the room: hot.

The girls were shocked silly by their crushes appearance and drank it in as subtly as they could. Lily even went so far as to lick her lips, being who she was, despite the freckled girl never having gotten further with a boy than a hug. Daphne was a little more experienced with boys, but none of the guys she'd kissed or flirted with compared to the boy of her literal dreams standing there. And they weren't the only ones in the room who were staring at Harry hungrily. Daphne scanned the room and found that the majority of the girls between third year and seventh, regardless of being in a relationship or not, were staring at the boy with some form of interest. Hell, even some of the younger professors were staring at him in wonder, surprise evident on their face, as were a couple of the halls recent female guests. She briefly wondered if she'd ever have an actual chance with the last living Potter with all of that competition present, but quickly drowned those thoughts out when she noticed Tracey looking down at the table with an unreadable expression on her face.

Tracey had always been the least vocal of her affection for the raven hared seeker. While Daphne knew Tracey was attracted to Harry Potter, she could very well see it in her eyes, her best friend hardly ever spoke of him or how she'd come to know him for that matter. She'd sometimes join in on conversations regarding the mystery surrounding the schools biggest celebrity, then other times seem defensive of the mere thought of him. An enigma, to say the least.

Daphne didn't let any thoughts on the boy get too far on her part because she feared it was a hopeless case in every way for any of them. The three friends had come to like the Boy-Who-Lived for various reasons. First off, he was mysterious. She assumed he interested them all by being so different than what people had expected him to be, and not necessarily in a bad way. He was no proud, openly heroic champion with magical prowess unheard of since the founders or a vast expanse of wealth and wisdom to flaunt. Instead, he came off as a soft spoken but brave boy who'd quickly grown a name for himself outside of his moniker, as both the youngest and most talented seeker the school has seen in a century as well as one of the nicest and most authentic people in the entire student body based off general word of mouth. Secondly, and Daphne blamed her upbringing for this, he was the final Potter heir. That alone was worth any semi-decent scheming Slytherins attention. The Potter name was very old and very well respected. While not as rich as a families like the Malfoy's or Black's may have been, it was still powerful in its own right, and came with a highly regarded name rather than an infamous one.

Lastly, Harry was just too far out of their reach for so many different reasons – meaning he was safe. He was safe to dream about and to crush over with friends, because the odds of any of them actually ending up with him were rather slim. Not for the first time, Daphne wished that weren't the case. Looking back to the impressive figure standing in the entrance to the Great Hall, however, she felt that some good things were worth the effort and that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. She'd even risk starting a competition for his affections with others if she only knew more about him, knew that he was as good as he seemed.

But there was no way of knowing who someone like that really was, was there?

* * *

Those thoughts were being mirrored by several of the girls around the room. Cho Chang, Su Li and Padma Patil from Ravenclaw; Leanne Thomspon, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuf; Katie Bell, Demelza Robbins and Ginny Weasley from Gryffindor. A certain blonde-haired veela was nearly dazed at the sight of her long-time crush. Her older sister was staring at the raven haired teen with a calculating expression that quickly turned to amusement upon seeing his blank face at the sight of the changes and additions to the hall which was actually an exact replica of reactions that a certain metamorphmagus sported. Some of the younger female professors were instantly reminded of a young James Potter and almost blushed at the memory. Even Amelia Bones noted her niece's focused and – if she wasn't mistaken - aroused look and pondered on their relationship.

On the other hand, the majority of the men in the hall were simply shocked at the changes evident in "Potter". Some thought he'd taken a potion of a sort overnight, completely lost as to the effects of baggy clothing and quidditch robes. Some others either admired or sneered at his choice in clothing, while many honestly didn't notice much of a difference. A rather large dog kneeling beside a certain werewolf whimpered at the ghost of his longtime friend, before yelping in pride at his godson when he noticed the looks being sent his way by all the females. Remus was pleased to see Harry coming into his own before he heard Padfoot's barking and quickly surmised what the animagus at his feet was thinking, earning said mutt a playful smack on the head.

The rest of the students either remained curious while few sneered at the boy who they thought was a liar, an attention seeker, a delusional fame-ridden git, or the guy who kicked their ass at quidditch for five years running. They didn't know which reason to be most upset about, but most eventually and unsurprisingly went with the quidditch reason.

Snape, Lucius, Umbridge, and a few other people in the room sneered at the boy, though for all different reasons. The former did so out of disdain and loathing for the boy who reminded him every day of the pain he'd suffered at the hands of what he felt was a completely guilty James Potter, conveniently disregarding his part in all of their confrontations. The boy was also a walking reminder of what he lost to that man, especially with _her_ eyes staring back at him. Now the young pain in his ass looked even more like his father than ever.

The head of house Malfoy sneered out of hatred for the boy who had caused his master so much trouble in the past, and had delayed their once great plans, not to mention had ridiculed him multiple times in recent years. Not to mention he'd allowed the boy to best him at the mere age of twelve. He gripped his cane painfully tight at the thought of it. The half-blood would pay, and the punishment he received in the graveyard last year would seem mild in comparison. This, Lucius swore.

Umbridge just sneered because she hated the filthy, impure upstart, who was sporting disgusting muggle clothes to boot. And was that a Filch for Minister Shirt? Why the gall?!

Meanwhile the elder professors and guests were reminded of a spitting image of James Potter, a boy who had once caused so much trouble in the halls and had always walked in with a look similar to the one the boy before them would wear when he was caught doing something. Just seeing the two dressed so similarly, as Lily often dressed James in their seventh year, was too much for some to fully take in without getting a little glassy eyed or nostalgic.

Meanwhile, the guests who had never met the boy in person before were rather intrigued by his appearance, though, judging from everyone else's reactions, it was a relative new look on him. The Flamels were especially excited to meet the boy and to thank him for his actions in his first year. Narcissa and the shrouded figure were both surprised at the boys appearance and infatuated with his eyes; greener than either of them had imagined possible. Even Narcissa, who'd met the boy before, didn't remember his eyes having been so sharp and radiating such power.

Dumbledore, ever the scrutinizing man that he was, saw that it was not only Harry's clothing that had changed, but also the way he carried himself. He seemed more upbeat, and stood straighter. The bags under his eyes had lessened considerably, and he even appeared to have had another growth spurt that year, now putting him at a healthy 5' 9" for a fifth year. The old wizard smiled at the boys change, chalking it up to a certain meddling phoenixes actions. He nodded at this; the boy would need all the help he could get for what was to come.

* * *

Snape broke the long drag of silence that had descended upon the hall with Harry's entrance. He appeared next to Harry in a flash, having already been on his way out when the boy decided to walk in. Sporting an ever more pronounced sneer than usual, he spoke into the silence with his perpetual drawl. "Potter… How kind of you to burden yourself with joining us this morning."

Harry ignored the bitter man's usual taunts while the rest of the staff and the majority of the guests raised an eyebrow at the potions master's tone. Harry instead asked a question into the still relatively quiet hall. "What's going on here?"

"Like you don't know? Come now, you're clearly dressed for the occasion. Mind filling us in on why we're here, boy," the voice of almost everyone's least favorite professor sounded once more. With every word he uttered, his sneer only became more pronounced, his voice dripping with a sardonic pleasure at singling out the 'spoiled brat'.

Harry, still taking in the situation, absentmindedly responded. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

A few of the students and guests snickered at his casual dismissal of the broody mans taunting. This only further angered the already inpatient Snape, who snapped a response back. "Do you mean to tell me that you have no idea about what's supposedly taking place today? No reason as to the meaning for this _meeting_?"

"No."

Snape gritted his teeth at the simple response and lack of respect. "No, _sir_."

"There's no need to call me sir, _professor_," came the reply from an amused Harry, who placed the same emphasis on the word professor as the man had on the word sir. He couldn't resist getting an easy shot in at the man who enjoyed making his life so miserable.

Harry temporarily feared that the sallow-skinned mans eyes might pop out of his head; they had gone so wide in incensed shock. Meanwhile, the rest of the students in the hall burst into laughter at Snape's expense. Even some of the Slytherins joined in, not willing to pass up the opportunity to laugh at their Head of House without being singled out. The guests were shocked by the altercation, but amused nonetheless, while Mad-Eye Moody was damn near on the floor in laughter. It goes without saying that his one magical eye was constantly spinning, looking out for any suspicious movements despite his seemingly vulnerable state.

Before Snape could open his mouth to berate the boy, Harry had simply walked away, his eyes distracted by the appearance of a familiar large black dog sitting next to Professor Lupin's feet. Everything else was quickly put to the back of his mind at the sight of seeing his godfather there, in Hogwarts of all things, with aurors and ministry officials in the same room. When they got a minute alone, Harry was going to kick the mutt back into his senses before getting him the hell out of here. For now though he simply remained calm, not wanting to cause a scene and draw attention to his animagus godfather. He was very interested to know why he of all people was here, however, and who better to ask than Professor Lupin. The ever-shambled man was quickly approaching him with a sigh of exasperation on his lips, but a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

"Harry, you know you shouldn't talk to Professor Snape like that. It'll only make matters worse for you later," said the werewolf with his usual placating tone, not wanting to anger the recently angst-ridden teen.

"Then he shouldn't be such a git. Regardless, what are all of you doing here? Not that I'm not happy to see any of you, it's just… you know." Remus nodded in understanding. "I presume Dumbledore asked you all here for a reason?"

The aged marauder was humored by Harry's directness. It reminded him so much of Lily when she was on a mission of similar importance: information retrieving. Cutting his thoughts short, he opened his mouth to answer the boy he saw as a nephew figure when said boy was suddenly tackled to the floor by a yellow blur.

"Harry!" a very feminine and decidedly French voice squealed.

"Uhm… err, hello?" Harry looked down to the bundle of blonde hair lying on his chest and came face to face with a rather beautiful girl who was staring up at him with a now shy smile. She had blue eyes and curly blonde-silver hair, leaning closer to blonde, with delicate features. Harry was sure he had never met the girl before in his life, but current publicly awkward position aside, he wasn't what he'd consider uncomfortable. Comfortable or not, the girl was quickly pulled off of him by another silvery-blonde haired woman, one who Harry instantly recognized this time. "Fleur?"

"'Ello, 'Arry," came the melodious greeting from the French veela. She frowned at her accent unknowingly slipping, something that Bill also caught and frowned at. She was making such good progress recently, too.

"Uhm, thanks," Harry offered, as he accepted the hand given to him by his fellow Tri-Wizard champion. He absentmindedly marveled at how soft yet strong her hands were. "How have you been doing lately? I never really got to talk to you after…" Harry trailed off at the reminder of the third task. Fleur sensed this and quickly continued the conversation while leading Harry towards their table and away from too many prying ears. The hall returned to their talking after that, though many decided to try and listen in on their conversation. Remus chuckled at the interruption before he returned to his seat, knowing that someone on the Gryffindor table would explain the situation to Harry sooner or later.

"I have been doing well. I've gotten a job at your local branch of Gringotts. I figured it was a way for me to escape the duties at home for a while longer, and maybe see the world." Fleur now spoke in controlled English, and Harry was impressed by how far she'd come in less than a year. "I apologize for Gabrielle over here, she simply doesn't acknowledge physical boundaries when she gets excited. Especially when it comes to her savior, non?"

There was that slip again. Fleur's brows knitted together, as did Harry's for a totally different reason.

"Gab – Gabrielle?" Harry turned towards the girl now sitting next to Fleur, mouth agape. "You're Gabrielle? What happened to the sweet little girl from last year? You couldn't have been older than eight… could you?"

His shock and the way in which he referred to Gabrielle caused said veela to pout and her older sister to give a pleasant laugh that had all of the males in the area feeling light headed. As the younger veela went into a rant about how she wasn't little, and Fleur described the veela aging process, which Harry found rather interesting, he also took in the people sitting at his table. Directly across from him, and the person he was most wary of, was Tonks.

She was currently sporting cropped, spiky white hair that went down to just the base of her neck, giving her a rather tomboyish look that was definitely cute on her. She wore a pink "Weird Sisters" t-shirt underneath an opened black leather jacket that reached down to her calves; the kind often seen in muggle detective films. Her navy blue jeans and black boots finished off her lack rather well. Harry smiled at the thought; Tonks always did seem to have great taste in fashion for an auror, and she was the only adult wizard in the room sporting in-style muggle clothing… _likely because she wasn't much of an adult but rather a kid herself_, Harry mused.

Seeing him staring momentarily, Tonks - ever the tease - decided to strike up a conversation with the boy who'd caught her interest over the past summer. "Wotcher, Harry. Aha. That's a banging nice shirt you've got there."

"Wotcher, Tonks. I reckon I can say the same. Fancy meeting you here?"

"Yeah, fancy that. Then again, I do make it a point to come here as often as I'm allowed. When Dumbledore and my boss Amelia Bones told me I had to drop by for some secret meeting, I'm not one to say no." Tonks then smirked mischievously before continuing in a more suggestive manner. "Besides, how could I resist seeing you again? I've missed you oh so terribly, since it's been so long since we've held each other close," Tonks now leaned in to Harry's side of the table, which managed to get him somewhat flustered. Aware of her teasing, he may have been, but immune to it… not for a while it would seem.

After a laugh at Harry's expense, as well as the look of shock on Ron and Hermione's faces, who'd remained quiet so far, Tonks gazed into Harry's eyes. She stared at him for what felt like hours, but was in fact hardly a minute, and he stared right back. Green eyes and purple eyes meeting without blinking, without separation. Harry felt slightly warm under the collar, but ignored it and continued to stare, even as Tonks' eyes began to change. '_Oh, she's cheating now_,' he thought.

His eyes danced with both determination and barely concealed amusement, while her lips twitched every now and then. The others at the table were lost as to what was going on, Gabrielle having long since stopped her hilarious rant about her ago.

"What are you guys doing?" Ginny finally questioned. She felt completely out of the loop, as did everyone else at the table, and she wasn't sure what to think of her considerably older friend staring at Harry like that.

To Tonks and Harry, however, who'd invented this game over the summer, the rules and purpose was simple: a staring match that quickly erased any and all awkwardness from a situation. Tonks had come up with it during a particularly awkward encounter in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, involving a bathrobe, fire whiskey, and a cup of tea.

Eventually, they both smiled and then broke into laughter, which only increased when the others asked them what was so funny. It wasn't funny in the sense that normal people considered funny, but it was rather the reminder of that incident and the thought of their unique and new friendship that made them laugh aloud. When Hermione and Ron, who had been rather quiet since Harry's entrance, asked Harry what all that was about, as well as his clothes, he simply mouthed "Late…" Understanding shown on their faces and they nodded their heads in satisfaction for the moment. When it turned out that breakfast was actually done being served, Harry decided to go to the kitchens after whatever it was they were doing was done.

Surprisingly, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and even Luna (whom he'd been pleasantly surprised to see was sitting with them and not at the Ravenclaw table) each pulled out a sandwich or a cup of juice or a rasher of eggs on a napkin. It was all given to Harry who was told that Ron and Hermione had decided he'd be late and would likely need his food for today. Sending a grateful smile at his friends, and thanking the fates for his two best ones, Harry dug in while politely maintaining conversation with the people on the table.

It was particularly amusing seeing Oliver rant about injustice when he was informed about Harry's and the twins recent bans from quidditch as well as the cancelation of the Hufflepuff/Slytherin game. Harry also kept seeing his teammate and good friend Katie, who was sitting next to an actually smiling Krum, sneaking glances at him every now and then. Theirs was a complicated relationship, he admitted. Krum and Fleur for their part simply caught up with one another on what they've been up to since the Tournament, while the Weasley siblings spent their time catching up with each other as well, with Harry getting a few comments in with Charlie and Bill. Apparently Fleur was dating the oldest Weasley son, something that surprised Harry and seemed to agitate Ginny. Ron himself was a bit miffed at the closeness shown between Viktor and Hermione, but didn't comment on it. Overall, it was a surprisingly pleasant breakfast for Harry, even if he was confused about what the hell was going on.

Unfortunately, it wasn't to last, as Dumbledore stood from his seat to address the once again quieted hall. They'd spent the last five minutes or so talking amongst themselves, waiting for an announcement of some sort. It seemed that the powerful professor was waiting for Harry to finish his meal, something that few failed to catch onto.

"Now that we are all here and prepared for the day, I would like to make an impossibly important announcement. The reason we are all here on this morning."

The Great Hall grew quiet at the statement, the room laced with tension more than curiosity now. Silence reigned aside from the impossible to hear crashing of wind outside. None could explain it, but a sense of urgency was present in the Headmasters voice that they weren't expecting.

"It has recently been given to me… information that could very well affect us all. Information on events that have transpired over the course of the past few years here at this very school, as well as a glimpse of what may yet come to pass in the future of the wizarding world." Brows were raised at this point, but his presence and tone brooked no levity for interruption. "I was given a series of books detailing the life of one… Harry Potter, word for word, thought for thought, to be read to each and every one of you," Dumbledore spoke clearly and calmly into the silent crowd, knowing there was no beating around the bush of a topic like this.

However, he did not get the reaction he fully expected. Silence was a given, sure. He then expected uproar, accusations of senility, a ruckus of anxiety and doubt. Definitely not… laughter.

The hall as one turned to the source of it, only to find the subject of the matter nearly in tears as he recovered.

"Oh, that's good, Headmaster. If it's taken you all year to plan that joke, what with the silent treatment and all, it may just have been worth it. Seriously, oh Merlin... Probably in poor taste to some of these fine folk, but funny as hell to me."

Yet when Dumbledore failed to laugh or show any signs of amusement, instead staring stonily back at him with an unreadable expression, Harry's laughter fully ceased and a cold feeling surfaced in the pit of his gut. The Flamels faces had gone quite pale, while Umbridge's head snapped up at the announcement. The rest of the people in the hall were still in disbelief and were quickly about to voice their disapproval of this stupid and pointless joke from the now proven senile old man, when Dumbledore drew his wand. He had prepared for this, and while he hoped it wouldn't come to this, it was a step he was willing to take in order to get things moving. Placing his wand in the air for all to see, he spoke in a solemn voice laced with amassed power and staunch intent.

"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, do solemnly swear upon my magic and my life that these seven books…" At this moment Fawkes flashed in carrying a parcel of seven books that landed on the table in front of the Headmaster. "…hold the complete and genuine truth concerning the life – past, present, and future – of one Harry James Potter, and his time spent here at Hogwarts. These books were given to me by a royal phoenix from places unknown in the future, which travelled back here to give us the gift of choice; a gift to change a future that may or may not doom us all. This, I swear with my entire being… So. Mote. It. Be."

A resounding clang was heard and a flash of magic expelled forth from Dumbledore's magical core, impacting with the cores of each and every person in the hall. When the light that had ignited upon Dumbledore's oath being completed had stopped, the crowd was silent.

What had just happened was a once in a several lifetime event. A true magical oath had been completed. It's the final measures of a witch or wizard willing to risk all in order to get it across to others that what they say is the truth. It requires the person to solemnly swear an oath with the fabric of magic itself, to be judged and ruled in complete scrutiny, with risk of death and loss of magic. If the force of magic itself actually find your words, thoughts, or deeds wholesome and honest, whether you're aware of it or not, it will allow you to use your core to send out the complete feelings of truth to everyone in the vicinity that the oath may concern. Once the oath is taken and the feelings settled, no matter how much a person may want to oppose the truth, they cannot, because they know within themselves that it's the truth; it's unbreakable and irrevocable. That's the wonder of the magical oath, though it's not used often in practice due to three reasons - the risk involved, as there was little you could not prove through other means such as veratisurum, and the magical strength needed to breach the cores of a crowd of this magnitude was simply impossible to find. Even with Dumbledore's mammoth magical strength and the elder wands assistance in channeling his untapped power, he quickly needed to take the pepper up potion he'd set aside for this very occasion. The third and largest reason was, you needed a pure creature like a phoenix, with equal magical strength or propel the oath into the hearts of everyone present. Faux was a wonder, but even he wouldn't have been able to do such a thing, which is why Dumbledore had been unable to do something similar when Voldemort returned last summer. With the timely help of the royal phoenix, however, the impossible was indeed accomplished.

To say the audience who had recently awoken from their stupor at the turn of events was surprised was an understatement. Murmurs started trickling around the hall, and before a quarter of a minute was out, most of the hall was out of their shock and voicing their vehement disapproval of the idea or their stern approval of finding out about "Potter's life". The subject of the matter himself was still stuck in shock, something that concerned Luna who was the only one at their table not yelling insults at the others in the room who greedily approved of the idea, or arguing with the Headmaster about how unethical it was. Had Harry not been so frozen, he would have felt an immense feeling of pride enter him as he saw just how many people were rising to defend his privacy.

Practically everyone on the staff table, sans Snape, Umbridge, Percy, Fudge, and Narcissa were yelling at the Headmaster about even considering such an unethical act. Delving into the personal life of a fifteen, then eleven year old boy wasn't something to be taken lightly. The Flamels were intrigued by the idea, as it would allow them to see whether the boy was a worthy successor or not, but it still went against even their grey moral code. They decided to wait and see what was to happen. Moody was admittedly excited to read about the young lad's experiences, as well as curious to see how keen of an imposter Barty Crouch Jr. had been in order to fool everyone around him. Kingsley and Amelia were both unhappy with the decision, but knew that it would bring a lot of closure to certain topics surrounding the boy. Again, that didn't mean they liked it or found it legal, but they couldn't necessarily call it illegal given the unheard of circumstances.

Aberforth remained silent, knowing his brother better than most, and he was able to actually see just how much the act pained the old fool. His brother must have ultimately felt it was worth it, which only served to stir up negative emotions for the youngest of the remaining Dumbledore siblings. Aberforth had witness too much of his brothers 'greater good'. He mused that perhaps karma would get his brother back by having someone write a detailed life story of himself and all of his secrets. He really didn't know the half of it.

The rest of the adults were quite frankly pissed. Molly was shifting from yelling at Dumbledore, to yelling at her kid for their language as they berated the Headmaster themselves. Arthur felt sorry for the boy whom he'd come to view as a son, knowing this likely wouldn't go over well with Harry, but remained silent aside from the shaking of his head. He had enough wits to acknowledge his voice wouldn't mean anything at that moment. The Tonks' were legitimately shocked that Dumbledore was willing to reveal the life of one of his students to over five hundred people on the whim of an apparently legendary phoenix. Narcissa and the hooded figure remained silent, mulling over the positives and negatives of possibly reading about the boys past as well as their future. The latter thought in particular interested a lot of people who caught onto that. Lucius viewed this as a victory, knowing that he'd be able to report anything on the Potter boy to his master; his actions, his strengths, his weaknesses, his whereabouts and secrets – everything. Snape was split down the middle. He didn't know if he could stand reading about the spoiled brats life, though he was curious about certain things as well. Though as a man who deeply valued privacy, he had to admit he wasn't overly fond of this in theory and his sentiments were shared vocally by Slughorn and even Garrick Ollivander.

The DA, surprisingly most of the Gryffindors, and some scattering of students in the other houses protested the action while a good deal of each of the remaining houses supported it for different reasons. The Hufflepuffs wanted closure on what happened during the events of the third night, not fully realizing (or in some cases caring) about their invasion of an innocent persons life. The Ravenclaws wanted answers as well, and what better way than from the source itself. And lastly, some of the more vindictive Slytherins were able to finally get some dirt on both the Gryffindor golden boy, and perhaps even leverage on the house he belonged to.

Meanwhile, Harry's friends and the girls who secretly crushed on him remained adamantly against the idea. Most of them may have been curious about certain events in his life and others were even anxious to get to know the Boy-Who-Lived better, but not under these extreme circumstances. There was a line that just wasn't worth crossing. Even Seamus joined his house mates in protesting, in spite of his previous disposition towards his dorm mate, knowing that Harry would do it for him in a heartbeat because that was just who he was.

Eventually the sound of a canon blast interrupted the hectic and cacophony of indiscernible noise in the hall, as Dumbledore launched a magical blast from his wand. The hall descended once more into silence. Dumbledore opened his mouth to address the crowd, but was beaten to the punch by a harsh whisper of a voice.

"This is my life…"

The words were soft, but nonetheless rang in the silence of the Great Hall. They came from one Harry Potter, whose eyes were overcast with emotion. He continued on, far louder this time, practically a yell in the sheer quiet of his surroundings.

"This is my life!"

The words were laced with anger, bitterness, but above all else – vulnerability. The look in his eyes when he finally looked up at the Headmaster spoke volumes about how he felt on the situation, and it nearly broke the hearts of everyone who knew him. It was a look that never belonged on the face of a child; a look of absolute loneliness, hurt, and fear. In a word, Harry Potter looked like his best friends had hardly ever seen him before – fragile.

"I don't have a lot of things in this life… I've come to accept that at a young age. I got over it, but one of the things I do have, and am entitled to, as are the rest of us, is my privacy. Or at least what's left of it. My thoughts, my deeds, my emotions - they're all written down in that series of books there. And by reading them to these people, people I don't even know, sheep who've cried out for my blood, who've hurt me and shunned me… you're flailing me and stripping me naked for all to see."

His killing-curse green eyes pierced Albus Dumbledore more thoroughly than any cutlery or spell could ever hope to achieve.

"At a level that I hardly view myself in. I… you… I don't know about you, but I hate being naked, being cold and judged. Being weighed and measured… and by these people! The people who've changed their minds about me more often than I care to count… No… No, I'm begging you not to do this."

Harry's plea nearly broke Dumbledore's reserve at that moment, as well as most of the people who were looking to get some form of closure or dirt from the readings. Unfortunately or not, Dolores Umbridge was not one of these people. She'd long since forgotten the feelings of empathy and compassion, and she saw this as nothing more than a means to an end. _Finally, a chance to find something on the liar, the usurper, and all of their half-breed friends_.

"Hem, hem," came the toad women's sickly sweet voice. It sent shivers up the spines of the adult guests who had not yet met the woman, while the younger students and guests simply felt disgusted when they saw the smile playing across her face. It was a smile that spoke doom for Harry and they all knew it. "Unfortunately, that is not for you to decide Mr. Potter. Since it has been proven that these books are indeed the complete truth, and you seem rather defensive of them, as a faithful Ministry employee, I can't help but feel as though you may be hiding something… incriminating, perhaps, in here?"

Before Harry or anyone else could respond she turned to the Minister. "Minister, I think now is the perfect opportunity for us to get to the bottom of these preposterous lies the boy keeps spewing. We'll finally know what happened the night of the third task, as well as any other dark secrets _they_ might have." The word _they_ obviously carried an implication with it, and had a profound effect on the formerly shaky Minister. His eyes seemed to darken and his face became set in troubled determination.

"Yes… yes, you're right Dolores. We'll get to the bottom of these events once and for all," the Minister spoke with a finality that told others that he would not budge on this. With the Minister backing the idea, they had little choice in the matter, though that didn't stop some of them from protesting weakly. The majority of them just stared at the Minister in incredulity. Was he THAT easily swayed? With a mere mention of getting anyone who might threaten his power, he was willing to cross ethical lines in front of a voting (somewhat) public? Many thought the same thing: the man didn't deserve to be Minister anymore than Harry deserved what was undoubtedly coming to him.

Back to said teen, he was struggling to get his emotions under control. He knew that an outburst right now would do him no good, so instead he tried to breathe as he felt more disheartened than he had been since the night of the third task. However, a stray thought drifted to the forefront of his mind. The letter from this morning! The letter that came with the package had talked about coming events changing his life. Whoever sent the gift knew what was going to happen. Before he could get too mad at the stranger for the lack of a heads up, he knew that he likely wouldn't have believed anything else from the letter had he been told his life was going to be read in a series of seven books in front of the entire school. Instead, Harry focused on the distinctive advice given to him in the letter: to breathe.

And so he did. He breathed, and thought about the so-called "silver lining" the mysterious sender had told him was located in every situation. He thought about people reading about his past few years and future, and it didn't take him long to see the real merit of it all. People would finally know that Sirius was innocent, that Voldemort was in fact back, they'd know everything. And then a glimpse of a future… he could use that to his advantage, to say the least. The only real concern was that everyone would see through his personal and possible home life in order to get to the things that mattered, but he thought about how Sirius was unjustly imprisoned for twelve years and was still hunted, and he thought about how Voldemort had murdered countless people including his parents and now Cedric and who know who else. If he wanted to avenge their deaths and offer a new lease on life to his godfather, then he didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Tightening his jaw and opening his eyes, Harry saw his friends staring at him in concern. He didn't bother giving a smile or a token of assurance. He didn't feel great about this, but the thought of getting his godfather free was enough to propel him into action. He stood up and talked over the voice of the hall. "Okay." People quieted down and turned to look at him. He took a deep breath and continued with a slow, reluctant nod. "Okay… let's do this. Let's read about my life."

"Harry," came the concerned voice of Hermione. The worry and sympathy his best friend had for him was evident in her watery eyes and soft voice. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah…" He turned to the staff table with a face of deceptive resolution, hiding the utter storm of raging thoughts swirling in his head. "Yeah, I'm sure. If it means finding out the truth once and for all… it seems like a small sacrifice in the big scheme of things. A crime of necessity, am I right Headmaster?"

"Yes, Harry… that's right." The Headmaster was both proud of the boy, and saddened at the turn of events. He knew he'd have a hard time getting back on the boys good side after this, but he would sure as hell put forth every effort to make it up to him, providing they find a way to win the war without Harry's death being a necessity as they apparently had in the prior timeline.

The large black dog sitting by Remus, who had been growling at the Headmaster, Snape, Umbridge, the Minister, Lucius, and back again, now came bounding over to Harry. Sirius was hurting inside for his godson, but he knew this was the boys' decision. If it led to his innocence being discovered, he'd be pleased, but he didn't want his freedom to come at the cost of his godsons privacy and secrets. Proud of Harry's actions and sad that he couldn't comfort the troubled boy in his human form, Padfoot settled for nuzzling his godsons knees in a show of affection and support. He was awarded by a calloused hand rubbing the spot behind his ears gently.

"Very well, we will be reading the first of seven books now, titled Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. I will read first, and then we will pass the book around for each chapter to whoever would like to read next. If time is with us, which I believe it is, we'll finish the first three of these books by the end of weekend. And before we get started, I'd like to say that everything spoken in this hall is being sealed away in only our heads. Alongside the magical oath was binding oath of secrecy. We will all be unable to tell anyone outside of this reading about the happenings in this story without the direct approval of Mr. Potter first. I apologize if that puts a dent in any of your plans for the future."

Dumbledore smiled serenely at Harry, which Harry almost returned out of shock. He'd almost forgotten about the possibility of people reporting what they discover in the reading back to Voldemort or anyone else out to get him. He was thankful for the Headmasters thoughtfulness and what he was sure was the phoenix's help. While he wasn't pleased with Dumbledore, he knew that the old man really did care for him in his own way. Harry had to hold back a laugh at the look on Lucius Malfoy's face, matched by his son and several other upper year Slytherins. Dumbledore also noted this, and was glad that the unnamed royal phoenix had returned the previous night and communicated with him on how to set up a binding spell that sealed the secret of the reading into Harry.

"Very well, then! Let's get on with it," came the impatient voice of Dolores Umbridge. She seemed to have completely missed the part about not being able to share what they learn with anyone else, as you could see the desire to oust Harry to the public shining in her eyes.

"Yes, alright… The first chapter of the book is called, "**The Boy Who Lived**."

Harry took a deep breath and readied himself.

Everything was going to be okay…

* * *

Well, all the introductions to the reading are now out of the way and we can proceed with the real reason most of you may be here - the reading. I really wanted to do more in this chapter; establish relationships and background on certain character, and at the same time take more out as I feel some parts may have simply dragged? Regardless, I hope you've all caught onto the somewhat animated and overly expressive theme I have running in this story. It's partially a satire on how flip-floppy and utterly 'crack' like most 'Reading of...' fics are, and partially my own desire to ham up parts of the story for humors sake. I'm trying to get a consistent tone down without undermining the upcoming dark portions of the story as well. Any help or constructive criticism is appreciated. One can only try to be meta too much before becoming that same thing, after all. If it helps, think of this as your standard Harem Anime, but hopefully with more direction and less blatant fan service. I'm trying to maintain and develop an actual story, after all, in spite of what people may say. Ahaha. Aha. Ha?

I also wanted to reshape the "Ice Princess/Daphne Greengrass" stereotype going around and focus on less explored characters like Tracey and Lily, as well as slowly mention the various interactions this version of Harry has already had with some of the girls (Tonks, Fleur, Daphne, Katie, etc). If you caught those mentions and are curious, you may be interested in my other story 'Gazing At Emerald Eyes'. It's a collection of one-shots that serve as an off shoot of this story. There's only the 'Tonks' chapter now, but I'll hopefully find time to add other encounters soon.

Finally, thanks to all of you for reading and I'll have the next chapter up before week's end. Cheers.

* * *

P.S. Still looking for a very competent beta reader. It's nigh impossible for me to spell check all of this and even Word is missing some things now. It'd help a lot. Thanks!


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